Wayward Sons
by BrokenSilence137
Summary: Takes place in '97 - Dean is 18 and Sam is 14. They're on the road with their father. The story falls under the guidelines established in the show except that this story is a Wincest. WARNING: Incestuous slash, demons, lots and LOTS of angst.
1. Before The Dawn

**_ATTENTION:_**

_If the scene/mood/perspective suddenly changes with no notice it's because FanFictionNet decided to change their formatting and somehow delete some of the formatting that indicated a scene change. (I used to use three asterisks between scenes. Oh and they also took out the line that separates the story from the darn author's note at the end.)_

_Just wanted to let you know so if you're thrown off you know it's because of the formatting change and not because you're going crazy or I'm a totally spastic writer._

_I would reupload the chapters with new breaks but it would be too time consuming with all that I've written now. Sorry._

_Okay... Let the story now commence!  
_

* OoOoO *

**1. Before the Dawn**

Sam cradled his head in his hands, guilt and disgust swirling in his head. The motel door banged open, he looked up through his bangs to see his older brother framed in the doorway.

"Why so glum, Sammy?" Dean asked brightly, giving his little brother a punch in the arm. He sprawled out on the bed, knocking into Sam who quickly stood up and moved to the other bed.

"Dude, seriously, why are you being so pissy?"

"It's nothing," Sam answered moodily. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, studying his discomfort. "I'm gonna go for a walk." He stood, pulling his jacket out from under Dean and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Whatever," Dean muttered to himself as he stood and peeked through the window's shabby curtains. The sun had just gone down and Dean watched as his brother took off down a dirt path that led into the woods. _Crap, I better go after him. Dad'll kill me if anything happens to him._

Within a minute Dean had caught up with Sam. He grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around. "You can't go wandering off by yourself, Sammy!" he said, the usual playfulness gone from his voice. Sam jerked away from his brother's touch, he wanted to take a swing at him but he held back.

"J-Just leave me alone," he murmured, not looking Dean straight in the eye.

"Fine, just come back to the room," Dean said, reaching for his brother's arm to make sure he didn't run off again.

"I mean it!" Sam yelled. His voice echoed in the woods and a few birds took flight, startled from their nests. Dean backed away slowly with his arms up in the air, a playful smile spreading across his face. He chuckled softly, unintentionally infuriating Sam even more.

"Come on, man. Dad's gonna kill us if he gets back and we're nowhere to be found." Dean said, trying to reason with his brother. Without a word, Sam began walking back to the motel, hurrying along the path so he wouldn't have to talk to Dean anymore. Dean followed after him, bewildered by his behavior.

* O *

Sam was scribbling furiously on his bed, mapping out an essay he was preparing to write while Dean kept changing the channels on the little TV across from their beds.

"Can you lower the volume?" Sam snapped.

"Sure thing," Dean said as his finger pummeled the button that raised the sound.

"Lower the volume!" Sam yelled, slamming his textbook shut and crumpling the paper that had the notes for his essay on it. Dean shook his head exasperatedly and turned off the television.

Sam uncrumpled his paper and flattened it out against the now-closed textbook in his lap. He began writing again, his pencil scratching against the paper. _Snap._ The pencil tip broke and rolled off the page.

"Crap!" Sam muttered under his breath as he grabbed his backpack off the floor and rifled through it, trying to find another pencil. "Crap," he said again.

"Okay, dude, what the hell is your problem?" Dean asked, completely bored by his brother's mood.

"I don't have another pencil," Sam answered curtly.

"Oh, yeah, that's it. No, really - what's your issue?"

"You are!" Sam finally yelled.

"What the hell did I do?" Dean asked, clearly offended.

"You didn't _do_ anything. Just forget it, oka-"

The door opened, revealing the boys' father, John Winchester. "What are you boys yelling about?" he asked, looking from one to the other. He shed his coat, still waiting for an answer.

"Nothing, sir," Sam and Dean said in unison. He studied his sons' faces for a moment then spoke.

"Fine. Get to bed. We're leaving before dawn." John said as he pulled his shoes off and sat down on the bed that Dean occupied.

"Yes, sir," the boys said together again. Dean quickly sat up from the bed and moved over to Sam's.

"Move your junk."

Sam obliged, standing and putting his schoolwork on the dresser next to the TV. He slowly turned back to the bed that Dean had settled into and eyed it awkwardly. He stepped forward hesitantly.

"Um, Dean, it's your turn to take the floor." he informed his brother, a note of pleading in his voice.

"Sammy, it's like four hours 'til the sun comes up and the bed's huge. Just get over here." Dean said. Sam could feel his cheeks begin to flush with color. John patted Sam's shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. When the bathroom door had closed Sam shook his head and grabbed the pillow next to Dean's head and threw it to the floor.

"Um, I'll just take the floor for tonight, I guess," he mumbled, kneeling down and pummeling the pillow into a more comfortable shape.

"You don't need t-"

"No, it's fine," Sam said coldly, interrupting Dean as he curled up on the floor.

"Sammy -"

"No, Dean, stop. Just go to bed. You're right, we barely have four hours before we have to go."

* O *

Dean could hear his father's quiet snores filling the room. He glanced between the beds to where his little brother lay. Dean quietly pulled the blanket off of himself and placed it on top of Sam. He leaned down and gently kissed Sam's head, a gesture that seemed completely out of character for the cocky eighteen-year-old.

Sam felt his heart leap in his chest. He knew his brother must have thought he was asleep for Dean to show him any affection. Sam sighed quietly into the blanket that covered him now and wished he could erase all the sick thoughts in his head and just fall into a dreamless sleep.

* OoOoO *

_- A/N: So basically, Sam is wrestling with what he's feeling towards his brother. Yeah, I'm taking it slow._

_My Quick Reference Source: __SupernaturalWiki__ (Best thing ever.)_

_Please, please, __please__ comment and tell me what you think._

_**By the way, I also have this story up on MibbaCom with all the proper formatting and extras like links to deleted scenes. So if you have the time to get an account on that site check me out - I'm Break the Silence.**  
~aep _


	2. Too Shameful

**2. Too Shameful**

"So, what's the job?" Dean asked his father.

"Probably just your average haunting, but still worth taking care of," John said as he drove the 1967 Impala over the state line into Texas. "We should be there in another hour or two." Dean nodded and looked out the window. He heard shifting in the backseat and turned to see Sammy waking up. He sat up, yawned blearily and pushed off John's leather coat that he had been using as a blanket.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Dean said with his usual cheeky grin. Sam frowned slightly and lied back down, grabbing up the coat again and covering his face with it. Dean sighed quietly and looked away.

Finally, the old black car pulled into the Knights Inn Motel. The two brothers waited in the car as their father paid for the room. A moment later John exited the office, holding up the room key in his hand, the boys unloaded the car and followed him to room 107.

"Alright, you boys stay here. I'll take care of this one," John said, handing the key to Dean.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Dad?" Dean asked as he dropped the key into his back pocket.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Stay here with your brother."

They both knew better than to question their father. They watched from the door as he got into the Impala and sped off. Sam sighed and sat down on the bed farthest from the door. Dean locked up and took a seat on the other bed. He watched intently as his brother pulled books out of his backpack and began to study.

"You're never gonna get laid," Dean joked.

"Shut up," Sam muttered, trying to focus his attention to the book in his lap.

"So, uh, what's that book about?" Dean asked conversationally.

Sam looked up at his brother impatiently, "The Crucible? Of course you don't know what that's about," he muttered under his breath. "Um, it's a play written about the Salem Witch Trials. The author drew parallels between the persecution in the sixteen-hundreds and what was going on in the 1950's. You know -- McCarthyism and everything."

Dean nodded slowly, vaguely remembering studying the Second Red Scare in one of the many schools he had attended over the years. He grabbed the remote control off the bed-side table and flicked on the television.

"Commercial, commercial," he muttered as he flipped through the channels, "Commercial, commercial. Oh, hot chick."

"Can a vampire ever be a good person? Couldn't it happen?" the girl on the screen asked.

A middle-aged man with a British accent answered her: "A vampire isn't a person at all. It may have the movements, the, the memories, even the personality of the person that it took over, but i-it's still a demon at the core --"

"What the hell are you watching?" Sam asked, looking up at the screen. Dean shrugged and changed the channel again. After a few more minutes of searching for anything that could hold his interest Dean shut off the TV.

"So, Sammy..." Dean began, unsure of what to say next. He bit his lip and glanced at his little brother.

"Yeah?" Sam asked exasperatedly, looking up at his brother. Their eyes locked and neither seemed able to look away for a moment. Finally, Dean broke the silence.

"Sammy, why are you mad at me? And don't try to say you're not because I may not be a friggin' nerd like you, but I'm not stupid."

Sam faltered, completely clueless as to how to proceed. He knew Dean was right, and what made it worse was that Dean knew it too. He cast about, trying to think of a way to avoid discussing what was on his mind. He knew he couldn't tell anyone about it, especially Dean.

"Sammy?" Dean prodded.

"Don't call me Sammy, I'm not five years old!" Sam snapped. Dean threw his hands up in defeat.

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me. If Dad gets back, tell him I went for a walk." Dean muttered as he stood and made his way to the door.

"Oh, so you're allowed to storm off, but I'm not?" Sam asked angrily.

Dean turned back around and walked straight at Sam. "Yes! Because I'm eighteen. You, on the other hand, are only fourteen. You're just a fuckin' kid!" Sam sat frozen in shock as he watched his brother bang the door behind him.

Dean jammed his hands in his pockets and walked quickly down the sidewalk, not paying attention to where he was going. In all the arguments they had gotten into as kids, Dean had never sworn at his little brother. It left a sour taste in his mouth. It didn't matter if what he'd said was true, it's how he said it. It was the look on his brother's face, as though Sam had just been slapped.

_No, he's not just a kid. He's your fucking brother!_ Dean thought to himself, still not watching where he was going. _He's my brother but... when I look at him... I see something else._ Dean felt sick just allowing himself to think it. Suddenly a horn honked and the car it belonged to swerved to avoid colliding with Dean. He looked around and realized he had walked into the middle of the street. He ran back to the sidewalk, heart pounding, thankful the road he had walked into wasn't that busy. He took a deep breath and leaned against a nearby telephone pole. When he had calmed down enough he made his way back to the motel, walking slowly as though he were a condemned man trying to put off the inevitable.

Dean's words were still ringing in Sam's ears when the door swung open again and Dean walked back in. Neither one acknowledged the other. Dean flopped down on the bed and grabbed the remote, turning the TV on again, desperate to escape his thoughts. An old horror film from the 50's played on the screen.

"You hold the answer deep within your own mind. Consciously you've forgotten it, that's the way the human mind works: whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us to entertain we reject it, we erase it from ou--"

Dean shut the television off before it could continue. The two brothers sat in deafening silence as the room grew dark, the last ray of sunlight shining through the curtains for no more than a few seconds.

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_- A/N: The first TV bit quoted was from __Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 1, Episode 7: __Angel). And the second quote was from the 1958 film __My World Dies Screaming (a.k.a. __Terror in the Haunted House)_

_Anyway, please take a minute to comment/review and tell me what you think. Thanks!  
~aep_


	3. One Less Monster

**3. One Less Monster**

Their father had been right, the Texas job took barely more than a day and now they were hitting the road again. Dean took one last sweep of the room making sure they hadn't forgotten anything and then followed his father and brother out to the car.

_"That's the way the human mind works: whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us to entertain we reject it...."_ The words from last night crept into his mind. Dean would never know that the same words were playing in Sam's head as well.

The car doors slammed, breaking them both from their reverie. The engine roared into life and before long they had reached the freeway.

"You boys are awful quiet today," John commented, wondering if something was wrong.

"Yeah," Sam and Dean murmured in unison. They kept stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. The uncomfortable silence was thick and palpable in the small car. Finally John broke through the quiet.

"So I have a bead on another possible job. Pastor Jim gave me a call, " he said.

"Oh, cool. What'd he say it was?" Sammy asked from the back seat, trying to sound interested although his mind was still elsewhere.

"Looks like another werewolf, possibly a few. The body count's high."

Dean perked up at this. "So, Dad, do you think you'll need help this time?" He silently pleaded for his father to say yes. A good hunt was just what he needed to keep his mind off....

"Yeah, alright," John answered, nodding slowly.

"Can I help too?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"No," Dean answered before his father could say anything. He tried to convince himself that the reason he didn't want Sammy to go was because he could get hurt. But he knew that Sam could take care of himself and with his father and big brother by his side he would be fine. _No, the real reason you don't want him around is so you don't have to think about him,_ he thought to himself, that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach returning.

"You know what, Sam? Yeah, you can come." John told his son, looking in the rear view mirror to see his face.

"What?! Dad, no! He's too young! It's not safe an--" Dean protested but was quickly cut off by his father.

"You started hunting a lot earlier than Sammy, I don't see what the problem is. He's well trained, he can hold his own."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Yes, sir," he agreed respectfully, knowing it was pointless to argue.

"So how long 'til we get there?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"If we drive through the night we should be there by eight or nine a.m."

* * *

"Sam, stay close to your brother," John whispered in the darkness of the alley. The three of them stood stock still, listening. Suddenly, a scream rang through the air. John ran towards the sound, gripping his gun tightly. Sam and Dean followed quickly. Turning a corner, they saw a young woman bleeding on the ground with a figure huddled over her. At their approach the figure straightened up and charged at them. In the light of the full moon they could make out the flashing claws and teeth that were growing nearer by the second.

"Sam, take your shot!" John yelled over his shoulder. Sam gripped his revolver with both hands, aimed and fired. The gunshot echoed, bouncing off the brick walls of the buildings that surrounded the alley. The werewolf fell to the ground, gasping and writhing in pain. The three of them closed in on it. Blood began to pool under its back. It was still gasping, eyes staring up in ferocious anger and pain. Dean aimed straight at the heart, just an inch or so to the right of the first bullet wound. The second gunshot rang out and the werewolf lay dead on the ground.

John ran over to the woman, kneeling to check for a pulse. He shook his head and stood up again. Sam studied the two figures on the ground. The woman, her golden blond hair now stained red with blood, her eyes wide open but vacant. And the werewolf, a young man, not much older than Dean. Black hair matted to his forehead that matched the darkness of his eyes.

Sam collapsed on the ground, trying to fight back tears. Dean knelt beside him, "Hey, you did good, Sammy."

Sam wiped furiously at his tears and looked away from the bodies sprawled on the ground. "He was a person, and we killed him."

"Sam, how can you say that? You saw what he just did, he slaughtered that girl. You saw those teeth and those claws. He was a monster, nothing more."

"Maybe three nights out of the month he was, but the rest of the time -- he was human." Sam practically whimpered. He felt ashamed to be this upset especially since his father and brother didn't understand, but he couldn't help it. That man's eyes had been staring up into his own as the blood poured out of him. And even though Sam knew what he killed was a monster, he still felt more like a murderer than a hunter.

"Sam, we just stopped a monster from killing ever again. According to Pastor Jim this thing ratcheted up a body count of over twenty people in the last three months alone." Dean tried to reason with his little brother. He hated to see the tears swimming in his eyes. His own eyes began to sting but he quickly got a hold of himself. He stood and turned away from his brother. He cleared his throat and looked up at his father who spoke.

"Alright, let's get back to the motel. We'll make sure there aren't any others. We've got two more nights to hunt."

The boys nodded. Dean turned back to his brother and helped him up. The three of them walked in silence back to the car.

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_Thanks to everyone who left comments/reviews. Keep them coming! They make me happy, which in turn makes me write more, which makes me post more… You get the idea. *wink*_

_~aep_


	4. A Dream

**4. A Dream**

Dean felt soft lips brush tenderly against his own, opening his eyes he saw Sam hovering over him. Their lips met again, a feather-light caress at first that soon deepened....

Dean jolted awake (in yet another new motel room), sitting up on the lumpy couch he looked at the other side of the room to see his father in one bed and Sam in the other, both fast asleep. He shuddered and rubbed at his lips, as though trying to scrub away the dream. He stood and ran to the bathroom, throwing the toilet lid up just in time. He wiped the vomit from his mouth and flushed the toilet.

Sam awoke, hearing the sound of retching. He sat up in bed, squinting to make out the figure huddled over the toilet. He heard it flush and watched as Dean stood up and made his way out of the bathroom. Dean looked over to Sam's bed again to see his little brother staring up at him. He stopped mid-stride, feeling like a criminal who had been caught in the act. Guilt flooded him as his dream came rushing back. He sighed and lied back down on the sofa, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to erase the images in his head.

"Dean, are you o--?" Sam began to whisper.

"Go to bed," Dean barked, louder than he intended. Their father shifted in his sleep but didn't seem to wake.

An hour passed, Sam lied in bed, still awake. He heard shuffling feet and in the darkness saw his brother rise from the couch and quietly creep out of the room. Sam rubbed at his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep. The minutes crept by, and Sam began to worry. Where had he gone by himself in the middle of the night? What if he was in danger? He looked over at the clock on the bedside table; it was three o'clock, Dean had left at two. A few more minutes passed with Sam still worrying when the door opened. Dean sneaked back in, almost tripping, but he managed to catch himself just in time. He slowly and carefully made his way over to his little brother's bed. Sam shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he felt Dean breathing over him. Sam could smell beer on his breath.

"I love you, Sammy," Dean whispered. He pecked his little brother on the cheek. Sam's heart raced so fast he thought it would shoot right out of his chest. He felt his brother's clumsy hand caress his hair. Sam knew how close Dean was, he could feel his breath tickle his lips. His own breath caught in his throat, partly terrified that this was just a dream and yet terrified it wasn't.

Dean's lips brushed against Sam's for a split second. "Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered, his words slurring slightly. Sam felt Dean's hand on his cheek; a shiver ran through him. And then he was gone. For a moment Sam was sure he had dreamed it but as he opened his eyes he saw his brother at the foot of his bed, a sad little smile plastered to his face.

Before he could stop himself Sam spoke, "I love you too, Dean."

The older brother's eyes widened and he turned away to hide the tears that were threatening to spill. Even through the haze of alcohol a million emotions were fighting within him. Did Sam understand what Dean had meant? And what did he mean when he whispered that 'I love you too'?

Sam stood up and slowly made his way over to Dean. Dean turned to face his little brother, tears now falling freely. Sam wrapped his arms around him, burying his head in Dean's chest. He breathed him in, allowing himself to cry as well. They stayed like that, holding on to each other for a moment frozen in time. Finally, Dean escaped the embrace, pushing Sam away gently, but firmly. He wiped the tears from his face and went to lay back down on the couch. Sam made to follow him.

"Don't," Dean whispered. Sam stood alone in the center of the dark room, feeling more confused than before. Dean stared off into space, away from Sam, the silence pressing in on his ears. Finally he heard Sam move away and crawl back into his bed. Sighing and closing his eyes, Dean willed himself to sleep, willed himself to forget what had just happened. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to know what it meant. But as Sam pulled the covers around him he couldn't be more desperate to understand.

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_*Le gasp* First contact! *wiggles eyebrows* Tell me what ya think! Sorry, I know it's a bit short. But seriously, please, __please review.  
~aep_


	5. A Broken Child

**5. A Broken Child**

"You boys are quiet today," John commented as he took a bite of the cheeseburger he had just brought to the room from a local diner.

"What?" they both asked distractedly, looking up at their dad. John studied his children, watching as they both picked at their food: Sam shifting his french fries around in the styrofoam takeout container, and Dean pulling a pickle slice off of his hamburger.

"Is this about last night?" Their father asked. Sammy almost choked on the fry he had finally taken a bite of.

"What?" he asked, not daring to look anyone in the eye.

"You seemed pretty torn up about what happened back in the alley." John elaborated. Sam and Dean both sighed slightly as their momentary fear ebbed.

"Oh, yeah. No, um, I-I don't know." Sam muttered in a noncommittal way.

"Because you know we did what had to be done, right?" John asked comfortingly, trying to catch Sam's eye. "You made me proud." At this, Sam did look up, shock visible on his face.

"R-Really?" he asked, his voice breaking embarrassingly. John nodded, a small smile on his lips. A goofy grin spread over Sam's face. He couldn't remember his father ever saying anything like that to him. He popped another french fry in his mouth, still smiling. Dean shook his head at the expression on his brother's face, a grin spreading over his own before he knew it. The mood in the motel room lightened considerably and the three of them finished eating.

* * *

The moon shone down on the Winchesters as they walked behind a large industrial building in need of maintenance.

"Pastor Jim mentioned this old homeless shelter that he thinks is a werewolf's hunting grounds. A few bodies have been found in the area, it hasn't gotten much media attention because all the victims were homeless. But according to police reports that Jim got a hold of, the bodies were mauled and the hearts were missing."

"Werewolf's M.O.," Dean said as he walked between his father and brother. Sam stopped, listening intently. John and Dean stopped as well, turning to look at Sam. This time, all three of them heard it: some kind of scratching noise that was coming from behind a dumpster up ahead. John cocked his gun and his sons followed suit. They moved silently towards the source of the sound. John gestured for Dean to go around the dumpster the other way so as to surround it.

A few more steps and the three of them could see it was only a stray dog desperately reaching for something under the dumpster. Dean shrugged and made to move away.

"Wait," John mouthed to his son. "Help me move it," he breathed, gripping the corner of the large container. Dean grabbed his side and together they pushed it back a few inches. John crouched down to see a pool of blood and a small human hand in the center of it.

"Dean, take your brother back to the car," John whispered urgently. Dean nodded obediently and led Sammy away.

"What was it?" Sam whispered to his brother when they were a block away. Dean shrugged and quickened his pace, putting a hand on Sammy's back to urge him forward as well.

"Oh, God," John whispered, horrified. He had managed to push the dumpster back a few more inches to reveal the body of a boy not more than ten years old. He was all clawed up and the heart was gone. John brushed his fingers over the child's eyes, closing them forever. He straightened up and looked around. A few spatters of blood made a trail that led down a narrow path between two brick buildings. John followed it, feeling increasingly uneasy.

A low guttural growl met his ears and he saw a flash of movement a few yards ahead that he couldn't quite make out. He took a few more slow steps towards the movement and was thrown to the ground, gun flung from his hand. Claws lashed out, ripping at his clothes. He threw a hard punch to the werewolf's jaw and kicked. It was enough to disorient it for a moment and John rolled out from under the creature. Reaching desperately for his gun his fingers clasped around the cold metal. He turned just as the werewolf pounced again. The bullet fired, the sound ricocheting off the brick and the werewolf fell on top of John, dead. He pushed it off of him and scrambled to his feet. The image of the mutilated child flashed before his eyes and he fired two more bullets into its heart for good measure.

He stood back, watching as the blood flowed out of the werewolf. It was a woman who looked to be about in her early thirties. Dried blood was caked around her lips and under her fingernails. John Winchester turned on his heel and exited the small alley, passing the dumpster that hid the child's body. That boy had the same slight build that Sam had at his age. A pang of sadness and gratitude that it wasn't his son hit John all at once.

Less than half a block away from the car a figure moved toward Sam and Dean. Sam made to hide his gun but Dean shook his head fervently, studying the man as he came closer. An uneasy feeling started to grow in the pit of Dean's stomach, he instinctually grabbed Sam by the shoulder and shoved him roughly behind him, acting as a shield.

Before they knew what was happening, Sam had been thrown to the ground by a werewolf that had crept up behind them. His head slammed against the concrete and he didn't move. Dean spun around, firing and missing the heart twice, but piercing its side. Panic flooded him, he threw himself on top of the creature as it descended upon Sam's unmoving body. A punch in its gut, straight where Dean's first bullet had lodged knocked it down long enough for Dean to aim once more, this time getting him squarely in the heart.

Suddenly Dean was pinned to the ground on top of the corpse of the werewolf he had just killed. It was the man that had given Dean such an uneasy feeling. His teeth flashed and claws ripped through Dean's shirt to his chest. Dean cried out in pain. He tried to push the werewolf off of him but it was too strong. One hand around the werewolf's throat, holding it off as his other hand searched for the gun that had fallen from his hands when he had been knocked down.

A deafening bang and the werewolf was thrown back. Another bang and it fell down dead. Dean looked up gasping to see his father gripping his gun tightly, fire in his eyes. John turned from Dean, seeing that he was okay and rushed to kneel beside his youngest son.

Dean hurried over as well, wincing as the cold night air hit the claw marks gouged in his chest. His heart pounded furiously and he could barely speak.

"I-Is -- Dad, is he okay?"

John's fingers fumbled against Sammy's neck. "He's got a pulse," he murmured as he leaned in closer inspecting the damage to Sam's head. He gingerly lifted his son up to see a few drops of blood fall to the ground.

"Come on, we gotta get the hell out of here." John yelled to Dean as he ran to the Impala with Sam in his arms. Dean ran ahead unlocking the car doors.

"I need you to sit in the back with him, we're goin' to the hospital," John said hurriedly. Dean helped lay Sammy down in the back seat and slid in himself, holding Sam's head in his lap.

The engine roared to life and the black Impala sped off, disappearing into the night.

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_Once again, the author begs her readers for comments/reviews. She is particularly fond of reviews that are more than two or three words (although she will still gladly accept those). But seriously, tell me what you think -- if you hate it, if you love it, if you're ambivalent, what I can do to make it better, any questions you have… I want to hear it __all__!_

_~aep_


	6. Sewn Back Together

**6. Sewn Back Together**

"What a fuckin' mess!" John growled under his breath. "Four bodies strewn across three blocks and now this." He looked into the rear view mirror to see both his sons looking pale even in the darkness.

Dean held his hand firmly to the back of Sam's head, slowing the blood flow. "Oh, God. Dad, there's a lot of blood!" Dean groaned. Fear coursed through him, Sammy looked so pale. "Please tell me we're almost there," he begged his father. John nodded.

Dean looked down to Sam again and suddenly realized that all the blood wasn't coming from his brother, but from himself. He felt himself growing faint as the dark red liquid oozed from his chest.

* * *

John sat hunched over in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his head in his hands. He heard a groan from Dean's bed and looked up.

"I-Is Sammy okay?" he asked. John stood and made his way to Dean's bed. He took his hand.

"Yeah, he's still out. He had to get a few stitches. We all did. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap. Dad, I'm so sorry, I tried to protect him, I swear." Dean said, needing to apologize to his father. His little brother had always been his responsibility and it seemed that time and time again he had failed to protect him.

"Yeah, I know," John admitted somewhat grudgingly. "It's my fault. We knew it was likely that there was more than one of 'em out there. I shouldn't have split us up."

"No, Dad --" But Dean didn't really know what to say, they really shouldn't have separated. He sighed and closed his eyes. "So, how many stitches?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Uh, Sammy -- seven. You -- twenty-one. Me -- thirteen." John counted off.

"Damn," Dean muttered. Sam began to stir in the next bed. And John moved over to him. Dean watched as Sam slowly opened his eyes.

"You guys alright?" Sam asked, his voice muddled with exhaustion. John nodded, gently patting Sam on the shoulder. "Did we get 'em?" John chuckled and nodded again.

"I don't really want to move you guys so early but we should get out of here soon. We've got four bodies just a few miles away and that doctor looked like she was ready to call Department of Child Protective Services." John told his sons.

"What a night," Dean said.

"Yeah, I've never seen anything like that. A whole band of werewolves. Let's hope we don't run into anything like that ever again. That was too close." John said, not letting on just how terrified he had been for his sons. "I don't want you boys in the thick of it again any time soon," he said sternly.

"But, sir, with all due respect, we handled it. I-I'm not saying it was pretty but what if it had just been you alone, Dad? Could you have handled three by yourself?" Sammy asked, his tone timid but his mind set.

"I wouldn't have had to worry about you two. It makes things simpler." John said defensively.

"But, s--"

"No, end of discussion," he cut Sam off abruptly.

"Are we gonna stay the one more night? The moon'll be full tomorrow too. We should make sure --" Dean began.

"No. We're getting the hell out of dodge. We already bagged four werewolves total, that's more than enough."

"It's not enough if there are still more out there," Sam muttered.

"Dammit, Sam! No! I'll call Jim, tell him what happened. If he wants to send someone else out here he can do that. But we're through with this whole mess."

"But, Dad, you never leave a job unfinished," Sam said.

"Sam, enough," Dean said.

John walked back to his seat, sinking into it, exhausted. He intended to finish the job. He would drive his sons out of state, set them up in the next motel, drive back and do one final sweep of the town. He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Alright, in half an hour we're gonna head out. So, both of you, rest for now."

----------------------------------

_I think I made John's character go easier on Dean than he really would have, but I just kinda felt bad. Poor Dean, all those stitches in his chest._

_Anyway, thanks for the comments, and keep 'em coming!!!  
~aep _


	7. Coming Out

**7. Coming Out**

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of the Rose Pines Motel. The boys shouldered backpacks and got out of the car, waiting for their father outside the office. He led them to their room.

"What's in Las Animas?" Sam asked as he threw his bag on the brown carpet and sat at the edge of one of the beds.

"Do I have to inform you of everything, Sam?" John asked exasperatedly. Sam sighed and took his cue to be quiet. "Alright, I'm gonna go do some research. You two, stay here, rest. You don't need to be running around with those injuries."

"You're one to talk," Sam muttered under his breath. John chose to ignore Sam's last remark and headed out the door, locking it behind him.

"Do you always have to butt heads with him?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged and lied back on the bed. The fact that they were alone suddenly seemed to hit them and the silence became overwhelming. Dean cleared his throat and looked out the window at the parking lot where the Impala had been just minutes before.

Sam wanted desperately to ask Dean about what had happened only two nights before. That lingering embrace and before that... the kiss. He could hardly believe it had happened. He was half-convinced it hadn't. It was too surreal. He sighed quietly and studied Dean as continued to stare out the window.

He took a deep breath, he had made his decision. They were alone now, the opportunity to discuss what happened was tangible. "U-Um, Dean," he said with a quivering voice.

Dean slowly turned his head in the direction of his brother. He bit his lip nervously, waiting for Sam to speak again. Silence lingered in the air for a moment until finally Sam spoke.

"The other night," Sam hesitated, studying Dean's body language. He was clearly uncomfortable, they both were.

"Well," Sam faltered again. His nerves had taken over, it was like he no longer had control of himself. The two of them sat frozen for a few long minutes.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that..." Dean finally said, hoping that that would put an end to the conversation.

"N-No, you shouldn't be." Sam began to blush furiously, he could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Dean looked stricken; he hadn't expected Sam to say that, but then he hadn't had any idea at all what to expect in the first place.

Sam stood up and slowly walked over to the table by the window where Dean sat. He took the seat across from him and stared down at the cheap plastic tabletop.

"So, what do we do?" Dean asked quietly. Sam shrugged, still studying the the table. "I feel so... wrong," Dean said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Sam understood perfectly.

"Me too," he said. "A-And I don't know what to do. It's not going away." Dean looked intently at Sam's face. Sam was saying what Dean could hardly admit to himself.

"And I think I could handle it if I were just gay, but this..." Sam trailed off.

"So you're --?" Dean left the question hanging.

"Gay? Yeah. I've never been even remotely interested in girls. And that's, I don't know, whatever. I mean, sure, it'd be easier if I were into girls but... This is just too much," Sam whispered the last part to himself but Dean heard. Sam sighed, realizing this was the first time he had said any of this aloud. Part of him couldn't believe he was saying all this, and couldn't believe who he was saying it to. He never thought he'd be able to confide in his brother and yet the two of them were sitting there, talking about their deepest thoughts and secrets.

"What about you?" Sam asked. Dean fidgeted in his seat.

"I've definitely got an interest in girls. But guys too. And then there's this... this thing that just blows everything else out of the water." Dean confessed. Sam's breath caught in his throat, wondering what Dean had meant by that last part.

Finally Sam just came out with the question he'd been dying to ask. "That kiss was real, wasn't it?" He felt so stupid just blurting it out like that but it was eating away at him. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"What were you thinking?" Sam hadn't meant for it to sound so accusatory but now that he had asked it he didn't know how to take it back, nor did he really want to.

"I-I don't know." Dean muttered. "No, I do know. But..." He sighed awkwardly, chancing a look in Sam's direction. "What about you?"

"I was thinking how I didn't know if I wanted it to be real or not," Sam answered ashamed, but truthfully.

"Me too," Dean said. "God, I can't believe we're actually talking about all this. I feel like a chick." Sam chuckled quietly and nodded.

Dean felt completely idiotic when he realized just how much he wanted to hug Sam right then and there. A small smile was lighting up Sam's face and before Dean realized it he was standing and pulling Sam into a hug. He released him quickly. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured. Sam shook his head, gently taking Dean's arms and placing them around him again.

"What are we gonna do?" Dean whispered into Sam's hair.

"I don't know."

-----------------------------------

_I chose the town because I liked the name and it was close to the state border. But then I decided to do a little research and found out that the town's history is kind of fascinating:_

"Las Animas sits along the Arkansas River, just west of where the Purgatory River flows into the Arkansas.  
A famous legend passed down through generations concerns the origin of Las Animas. It tells of historical accounts claiming that the town, like the river, got its name from a group of Conquistadors who perished without a priest. The original Spanish name for Las Animas ("The Souls," in Spanish) was La Ciudad de Las Animias Perdidos en Purgatorio, "The city of lost souls in Purgatory."_**  
**__Source: __Wikipedia: Las Animas, CO_

_And as always -- comments/criticisms are welcomed, needed and loved!  
~aep _

_BTW: In the reviews section 'Dark Toy' corrected my Wiki source; technically the translation above would correspond to "_La ciudad de las Almas perdidas en el Purgatorio._" For more info, check out the review section. Thank you Dark Toy! :)  
_


	8. The Interruption

**8. The Interruption**

One barrier had been broken but it felt to both of them as if there were a thousand more ahead. Dean looked up at the tacky cuckoo clock hanging on the wall.

"Is that even the time?" he asked. Sam looked up too.

"I don't think so, it's at the same time as when we first got here. The batteries must be dead," he said as he scrounged around in his bag looking for his old watch with the broken strap. He managed to find it; "It's ten."

"If Dad had just gone to the library he would've been back by now," Dean muttered to himself.

"Twenty bucks says he went back to finish the job by himself," Sam said, knowing his father all too well. Dean sighed and nodded in agreement.

"He can handle himself," Dean said, speaking to himself as much as to his brother. "How's your head?" he asked, changing the subject. Sam gingerly felt the back of his head, his fingers running over the stitches that were hidden by his long hair.

"It's okay. What about you? You practically got mauled."

Dean shrugged and spoke nonchalantly, "It's not too bad."

"Oh, come on, I heard Dad. You had to get like twenty stitches! Don't act all macho." Dean chuckled, the expression on his face clearly saying _'whatever'_.

"Come on, let's get to bed. It's early, but some extra rest wouldn't hurt us." Sam rolled his eyes but pulled some old clothes from his bag to wear to sleep. Dean rummaged around in his own bag and pulled out some sweats. They awkwardly faced away from each other to change.

Sam found himself glancing over his shoulder, watching his brother as he changed. He felt dirty for doing it but he couldn't look away. Dean pulled his shirt off, a sharp intake of breath as his stitches were strained. Sam studied the beautiful lines and curves of Dean's back. Finally, he pulled his eyes away and finished changing.

* * *

"Can you sleep?" Sam whispered into the darkness.

"No, not really," Dean replied from the other bed. "What time is it?" Sam rolled over in bed, reaching out to the lamp on the nightstand. A dull glow filled the room and Sam looked at his watch.

"Almost one."

Dean sat up, throwing the covers off of him and moving to the edge of the bed. He sighed deeply, wincing as his stitches stretched slightly. Sam watched his brother, feeling foolish as he wished that they would kiss again. He looked away, as if afraid that Dean would read his thoughts, not knowing that Dean was actually thinking the exact same thing.

"Well, uh, I guess we should try to get to sleep," Sam muttered as he turned out the light. Dean stood, abandoning his inhibitions and quickly moving over to Sam's bed. He reached his hand out, caressing his little brother's cheek. Sam froze, shocked as his brother moved closer, leaning in.

Their lips met, pressing together awkwardly. Sam broke away, moving back to make space for Dean on the bed. He sat, arms snaking around Sam's slim waist. Their eyes slowly closed as they kissed again. A small moan began to build in Sam's throat, urging Dean on. His lips parted slightly, waiting for Dean to make the next move. Dean pulled his brother closer to him until their bodies pressed together. Their breathing began to quicken. Dean's own lips began to part but before anything more happened he found himself pulling away.

"Oh, God, what the hell are we doing?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. "N-Not only are you underage, you're my brother!" he said, completely disgusted with himself. It was one thing to think those thoughts, but acting on it... "We can't do this."

"I know," Sam admitted sadly, his breathing slowing down. Tears began to well in his eyes, he wiped at them furiously, angry at his own weakness.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered in the dark. And he was sorry, for a hundred different reasons. Sorry that he had taken advantage of his brother, sorry that he had stopped himself...

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Sam spoke, "D-Dean... I, I don't wanna stop." Dean cradled his head in his hands.

"Me neither," he whispered back. Their hands met in the darkness, fingers lacing together. "Fuck it," he moaned, his lips colliding with Sam's. He gently pushed him down, lying on top of him. Their mouths moved hungrily, fighting back and forth. Sam's lips parted again, inviting Dean in. His tongue moved slowly forward, tasting Sam. Sam's own tongue swirled around Dean's, dancing.

Sam's hands clumsily made their around Dean's waist and up under his shirt. His feather-light touches made Dean shiver. Sam withdrew his hands, taking hold of Dean's shirt and slowly pulling it up, the kiss broke just long enough for Dean to pull his shirt off and throw it to the floor. Their lips touched again, a soft but eager kiss began.

Suddenly they heard the clink of keys from outside the door. Dean hurriedly got off of Sam, grabbed a pillow, threw it down on the floor and quickly lied down. They heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened. Their father walked in, completely oblivious as to what had just been going on.

--------------------------------------

_Speaking of Dean's back (__Sam studied the beautiful lines and curves of Dean's back.__), did anyone else see that sex scene in the car (season 4, episode 10: "Heaven and Hell")? And if so... did anyone else notice how gorgeous Jensen Ackle's back looked? I guess it's weird to think of a back as gorgeous... but __**Damn**__. *grins evilly*_

_Anyway… Reviews Please!_

_~aep_


	9. The Social Experiment

**9. The Social Experiment**

"That could have been..." Dean cast about for a word strong enough, "disastrous." He sighed, looking off in the distance and squinting at the sunlight. The two of them sat at opposite ends of an old wooden bench in a local park.

"Yeah, I know," Sam muttered, feeling restless. He shifted in his seat, chancing a glance at his older brother. He looked exhausted, shadows under his eyes from stress and lack of sleep.

"I can't believe it even went that far," Dean muttered under his breath. Something about that statement stung, Sam sighed sadly.

Two little giggling girls, twins, ran past on the path as their mother walked behind. The brothers watched absentmindedly, longing for the simplicity that seemed to come so naturally to that family.

"Do you wanna take a walk?" Sam asked quietly. Dean shrugged but stood. The two of them began walking in the opposite direction of the family that had just passed. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Dean watched his little brother intently as they walked further down the path, tall trees casting shadows from overhead.

"Do you regret it?" Sam asked suddenly, eyes on the ground.

"I-I don't know," Dean answered truthfully. Sam bit his lip and nodded, still not looking at his brother. "You?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged, afraid to speak. The familiar tightness in his throat told him he was close to tears.

"No," he said after a moment, "I don't regret it." He glanced up at his brother, unable to read his expression.

"But what if Dad had caught us?" Dean asked.

"He didn't," Sam said simply.

"Damn near did," Dean pressed on. He ran his fingers through his short hair in frustration.

"I know! What do you want me to say?" Sam asked, his voice coming out more angrily than he had intended. He sighed and quickened his pace, jamming his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said, stopping Sam with a hand on his shoulder. They stared into each other's hazel eyes.

"So? It doesn't fix it, any of it. This is all so fucked up." Sam said, breaking his eyes away from Dean's. They walked in silence, the trees growing denser and the path darker.

"Look, I know how wrong all of this is but I don't wanna end it," Sam whispered so quietly that Dean barely heard him. In all honesty, Dean felt the same way but he wasn't ready to admit it.

* * *

They were passing through another nondescript town in the car. Two story houses, diners, gas stations, City Hall. They had seen it a thousand times before, cities and towns bled together. Sam wondered idly if he'd ever feel like he had a home. He thought of Lawrence, where he and Dean had been born, where their mother had been killed. How much did Dean remember about that place, about their mother? He sighed and lied down in the back seat, closing his eyes. He tried to empty his head of all thoughts and just sleep.

Dean stared out the window, his eyes not really seeing anything. The radio played softly but he wasn't paying attention. It took him a minute to realize his father was speaking to him.

"Sorry, what?"

"We're going to Athens, Ohio. There's been a string of disappearances around the Ohio University campus, which is supposedly one of the most haunted schools in the U.S."

"Oh. Isn't that the school that's in the middle of a giant pentagram or something?" Dean asked.

John nodded. "It's not far from the old Athens Lunatic Asylum either."

"Well, sounds like a choice piece of real estate," Dean said sarcastically. "So, do the disappearances follow a pattern?"

"Started a week and a half ago, so far they're all students between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Seven girls and four boys, average students, all from dorms in the same building -- Weld House. That's all I could get from the papers," John explained.

* * *

They checked into the Sunset Motel, their room had two queen sized beds and an old pull-out couch. John spread newspaper clippings on the bed for his sons to look at. Sam and Dean sat on opposite sides, leaning in as they read over the articles.

"So, what's next?" Dean asked his father after he finished skimming over the clippings.

"Investigate. I'll go in as an FBI agent. Dean, you try to get some information posing as a student."

"What about me?" Sam asked.

"Nothing for you to do this time around," John said dismissively.

"But --" he began to protest.

"No! Sam, don't start," John yelled. Sam folded his arms across his chest but didn't say anything. He understood his father's perspective, wanting to protect his youngest son (especially after the last hunt), but it still frustrated him.

* * *

"I mean, it's just so hard, Amanda is like my best friend and now she's been kidnapped or something," Kelly confided in Dean, her voice quivering with emotion.

"That's horrible," Dean said, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Can you think of anything weird that's been going on lately or anybody that would want to hurt her?" he asked gently. At this, Kelly broke down in tears. Dean sighed quietly, trying to hide his annoyance. "I should give you some time alone," Dean said as he began to rise from the girl's bunk, trying to escape. She grabbed his hand.

"No, please stay," she sniffled, giving him a watery smile. He tried to smile back and sat down again. "It's so nice to find someone who cares and who's nice enough to listen," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. He shifted uncomfortably, murmuring in agreement. "I wanna show you something," Kelly said softly, reaching under her pillow.

"Oh, um, okay," Dean said. Suddenly an electrical charge fired through his body, shooting pains burned through him. He tried to move but his body wouldn't respond. Another charge and Dean was knocked out.

His entire body ached as he began to wake up. He was no longer in the girl's dorm. His eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, it looked like the cluttered basement of an old house. He saw Kelly sitting in the corner. He made to get up but ropes bound him to the chair he was in.

"Oh, you bitch! You fuckin' tasered me!" Dean yelled, struggling against the ropes. She smiled sweetly.

"Well, I couldn't exactly drag you down here if you were conscious," she said conversationally. He stared at her in disbelief. The door opened and a dark-haired man a few years older than Dean came down a flight of stairs, wrapping his arm around Kelly's small waist and kissing her.

"So, basically, you two are behind all the kidnappings?" Dean asked, staring from one to the other. They nodded earnestly. "Why?" Dean asked.

"Think of it as a social experiment," the man said, a grin on his face.

"Uh, care to elaborate?" Dean asked angrily.

"Not particularly," the man retorted.

"Oh, come on, Eric. Play nice," Kelly said sweetly, swirling her index finger over his chest.

"Yeah, Eric, play nice," Dean said, the smart aleck in him shining through. Eric lunged forward, punching Dean hard in the jaw.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, tasting coppery blood on his lip.

"Well, like I said -- a social experiment. A study, and you're one of the test subjects." Eric said, pacing slowly in front of Dean. "We grab a few kids, see how they react --"

"How they react to being kidnapped? Gee, I wonder," Dean said sarcastically, earning himself another punch from Eric.

"You asked, so don't interrupt," Eric spoke calmly and evenly. "Besides, you'd be surprised at how diverse their responses were --"

"Were? Meaning what? What did you do to them?" Eric threw yet another punch, this one landing in Dean's gut, knocking the air out of him.

"What did I say about interrupting?" Eric whispered into Dean's ear.

"Dude, you are such a freak!" Dean said vehemently.

"For example," Eric continued loudly, "You are by far the most aggressive and, quite frankly, the most stupid kid we've seen so far. You keep mouthing off, but what does it get you?"

"Well, for one thing, that funny little expression on your face --" Eric kicked hard, knocking Dean's chair to the ground. "Ow," he murmured as his head hit the hard floor. Eric bent down and began untying the ropes that trapped Dean in his chair. He pulled him roughly to his feet.

"Alright, you talk a good game, let's see you fight," Eric said smugly.

A cocky grin spread across Dean's face. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that."

----------------------------

_So… tell me what you think! Reviews are loved, especially lengthy ones. *wink wink, nudge nudge* And thanks to everyone who are leaving comments!  
_

_~aep_


	10. A Silent Yes

**10. A Silent Yes**

Dean had to admit that Eric was a good fighter, but his moves were mechanical, too perfect, no imagination. Dean knew he could use that to his advantage. He played into his hands for a moment or two. They threw and blocked punches, like some kind of aggressive dance. Suddenly, Dean lunged forward, his knee smashing into Eric's groin. Eric fell to the ground wheezing.

"I know it's a cheap shot, but it's so worth it," Dean said, smiling at the pained expression on Eric's face. He heard hurried footsteps behind him. He shot his leg straight out behind him, landing his foot in Kelly's stomach. He heard the taser fall to the ground, electricity crackling.

He quickly grabbed the ropes that had bound him to the chair only a few minutes ago. He leaned down, three quick punches to Eric's jaw. He picked the chair up from the floor and dragged Eric over to it. Pulling him up, he shoved him into the chair and quickly began tying him to it.

"How 'bout this for an experiment? How much do _you_ like being beaten and strapped to a chair?" Dean growled. He turned to face Kelly who was reaching for the taser. Dean kicked it away. He yanked the plug out of an old lamp that sat on a heavy wooden table. He pulled Kelly over to it, tying her hands together and then wrapping the rest of the cord around one of the table's thick legs.

Dean ran upstairs, locking the basement door behind him. A few bills sat on the kitchen table the address read 2349 August Rd. He ran out the front door, checking to make sure that it was the right address. 2349 shined from the street lamp in copper letters on the door. He went back inside, looking through the rooms on the first floor. He ran up a flight of stairs and opened the first bedroom door, the stench of rotting bodies hit him. He covered his nose with his shirt and entered, fighting the impulse to gag. Four young men lied on the floor, he walked over to each one in turn checking for a pulse. They were all dead, it looked like their heads had been bashed in. He walked out of the room, shutting the door again.

He walked down the hall to the next door, his hand closed around the cold doorknob, he turned it and the same smell met him. The large bed's covers were twisted and stained with blood. Two girls lay in it, and three more on the floor, all of them naked and beaten. He dutifully knelt by each one, feeling their necks for a pulse, but it was pointless, they were all gone. Dean looked around in disgust at the mess. He quickly left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. It was hard for him to believe that human beings were capable of all of that. The next door led to an empty bathroom and the one after that to another bedroom.

Dean saw two girls, also covered in bruises, each tied to a separate bed post. He leaned down to the first one, feeling for a pulse. She stirred, and began to scream, the other girl woke, crying quietly.

"Shh, no it's okay, I'm gonna get the police," Dean said, his fingers frantically untying them from the bed posts and helping them up.

"Th-Thank you," one of them whispered. Dean nodded.

"I'm just gonna find the phone," Dean told them as he left the room. He ran back downstairs to the kitchen where he had seen a phone on the counter earlier. He grabbed it, listening for a dial tone.

"Shit," he murmured, listening to silence. He hung up and tried again -- still nothing. He unplugged the cord and then jammed it back into the wall, picking up the receiver again, he finally heard the dial tone.

"Oh thank God," he muttered, his fingers punching 9-1-1. In the few seconds it took for an operator to pick up, Dean debated whether or not to hang up and finish off Kelly and Eric for himself. _People like them didn't deserve to live,_ he thought as the faces of all the bodies upstairs flashed in his mind, and the look of terror in the eyes of the two surviving girls....

"9-1-1, What's your emergency?" a woman's nasal voice asked through the phone.

"I'm at 2349 August Road. The kidnapped college students are here, only two of them are still alive. They're upstairs. Send over an ambulance and some police cars. And tell them to look in the basement, the kidnappers are locked down there," Dean said hurriedly.

"Alright, the police will be there soon. What's your name, son?" the woman asked.

"My name --" Dean hung up. Looking around quickly he saw a set of keys at the other end of the counter. A large key that belonged to a car was clearly visible on the ring. He grabbed the keys and ran outside, rushing to the little red Honda in the driveway. The key fit, he turned it quickly and jumped in the car. He pulled out of the driveway and sped off in the direction of the motel, parking it three blocks away. He went the rest of the way on foot, trying to look calm.

"Demons are so much simpler than this... People are fucking insane!" he muttered under his breath, shaking slightly. He pulled the room key out of his back pocket and turned it in the lock.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly, as he took in the sight of his shuddering brother in the doorway.

"Y-Yeah. Dad's not back yet, is he? I didn't see the car," Dean asked, taking a seat on one of the beds, taking slow, deep breaths.

"No. What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked, sitting down next to his brother.

"Nothing supernatural about this job. Just two psychos, they grabbed me but I got away. Locked them in their own basement. The police should be there by now," Dean said, his body finally beginning to relax.

"What about all those students?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, "Only two of them were alive by the time I got there." Dean sighed, leaning his head against his brother's shoulder.

"J-Just so fucked up," Dean murmured. Sam laced his fingers with his brother's, squeezing his hand slightly. He had never seen Dean so upset.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his head resting against Dean's.

"We've seen a lot of evil, but this was something completely different. Nine bodies, rotting away in some house...." Dean's voice faded, his thoughts were scattered, disturbed. He felt Sam's hand on his cheek, breaking through the swirling chaos in his head. He watched as Sam's face moved closer to his own. His lips brushed against Dean's, soft and questioning. He didn't say a word and yet his lips posed a question, asking if he should continue. Dean's lips responded with a resounding _'yes'_.

---------------------------------------

_I've said it before and I'll say it again -- Reviews make the world go round, that and coffee… although I don't actually drink coffee. Okay, so reviews and chocolate (God knows I ingest enough of that). Peace!_

_~aep_


	11. Broken Rules, Crossed Lines

**11. Broken Rules, Crossed Lines**

_ANONYMOUS TIP LEADS POLICE TO KIDNAPPED CO-EDS, 9 DEAD_ The front page of the Athens News read. John sat at the table reading the article as his boys ate breakfast.

"You should have called me first thing," John said, looking up from the paper, his eyes sternly boring into Dean's.

"I'm sorry, Dad. It's just I didn't know how long those girls had been like that, I just wanted to hurry." Dean muttered apologetically.

"When you hurry you get sloppy. If it weren't for dumb luck you could be in a cell right now being held under suspicion for God only knows what. You can't go taking risks like that."

"It wasn't exactly my intention to get kidnapped! I just did what I thought I had to in that situation, and it turned out alright so please, just stop." Dean told his father, his sarcasm quickly taking on a note of pleading.

"Dammit, Dean! Don't act smart and don't try to avoid this."

"God, just stop arguing!" Sam suddenly shouted, feeling as if he had traded places with his brother; Dean was always the one breaking up the fights between their father and Sam. Silence fell between the three of them. Sam and Dean returned to their cereal as John found his place and began reading again.

* * *

As they drove out of town John had to admit to himself that he was proud of his son. Dean had handled himself well, managed to take care of himself when the odds were against him. He realized the reason he was so angry was really because he hadn't been there to protect his son. He tried to take comfort in the fact that Dean hadn't needed him, but the thought provided little solace.

"So where to next?" Sam asked from the back seat, breaking through his father's thoughts.

"Dinwiddie, Virginia." John said.

"Dude, we're going to a town that's actually called Dinwiddie?" Dean asked gleefully. His father nodded. "Nice! So... what's in _Dinwiddie_?"

"Dean, you're having way too much fun with that word," Sam said, amused. Dean nodded fervently, a cheeky grin on his face. Sam laughed, despite his brother's age, Dean could be so enthusiastic at times that he looked like an overgrown five-year-old.

The smile slowly faded from Sam's lips as he realized that the grin plastered on his brother's face hadn't quite made it to his eyes. He realized that Dean was once again using jokes as a defense mechanism.

"Nothing, I just thought a change in scenery would be good after all the publicity in Athens," John said, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his tone.

Dean glanced towards the back seat where his little brother sat. His brow was furrowed and a small frown had cast a shadow over his features. Their eyes met for a moment and Dean realized that Sam saw right through him. He quickly turned back to stare out the windshield. He was exhausted, he hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, he just laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to rest but was terrified that his dreams would quickly turn into nightmares: the faces of the murdered students leering before him. He set his eyes on the road. Thick clouds flew overhead, casting shadows on the path the Impala followed.

* * *

Sam listened to the Impala's engine fade into the distance. He felt giddy knowing that he was alone with his brother. He turned to face Dean who was sitting on the bed nearest to the bathroom. He began to walk towards him but stopped when he saw the expression on Dean's face.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, his excitement disappearing, replaced by worry.

"This is," Dean said quietly, staring at his feet.

"Dean, N--"

"Sammy, don't even start, because no matter what you say I'm your big brother. I should protect you not... _molest_ you." Dean said harshly.

"Dean, that's not what your doing!" Sam shouted, his throat tightening painfully.

"Yeah, it is, Sam. It's exactly what I'm doing. And your life is already hard enough. You haven't exactly had a normal childhood, and this... this is the stuff therapists make their living off of. I can't keep doing this to you. It's not fair." As he spoke the words, Dean knew they were true but he wished he didn't have to say them.

"That's exactly why it shouldn't matter!" Sam said. Dean looked up at him in disbelief. "Since when have we followed any of the rules? We go from town to town killing things people don't even dare dream about!"

"Yeah, but there are some rules that should never be broken!" Dean said angrily. He wished Sam would stop making this harder than it already was. "Some lines you just can't cross. And I did, but I'm stopping now."

"You didn't do it, _we_ did! Please, you can't just go back now," Sammy pleaded, walking toward his brother.

"No!" Dean shoved Sam away. He fell to the floor, staring up at his brother as the tears spilled from his eyes. Dean wanted to kneel down and hug his brother, taking it all back but instead he stood and strode out of the room, tears of his own beginning to fall.

--------------------------------------------

_Dinwiddie __is_ a real town. When I found that out, my inner five-year-old took over. :D  
* And I just found that Pamela Barnes (psychic in season 4) is played by an actress named Traci Dinwiddie. Complete coincidence! lol.  
But then the drama ensued. :(

_Oh, also, I recently fell in love with this song and I think it fits Sam/Dean so well: 'Almost Lover' by A Fine Frenzy. If you haven't heard it go to YouTube and listen to it.  
_

_**Comments = Chocolate! Or more specifically: Dark Chocolate and UPDATES!!!**  
_

_And last but not least, I posted the first chapter to another SPN fanfic (My Favorite Part Was Dying). It's not as good as this one, in my opinion but check it out and tell me what you think. It's got a very long-winded summary and the first chapter is very short so I guess it evens out. lol_

_~aep_


	12. Drowning Sorrows

**12. Drowning Sorrows**

"Gimme a beer," Dean told the middle-aged man behind the bar. He studied Dean's face for a moment.

"I.D.?" he asked with a gravelly voice that suggested he was a smoker. Dean pulled out his wallet and handed the bartender his fake I.D. The man nodded and handed him a bottle. Dean slid a few dollars onto the bar then took a swig.

A woman in her early twenties with long silky black hair that fell in curls around her face took a seat next to Dean and ordered a whiskey.

"What's wrong, sugar?" she asked. Dean took another swig from his bottle as she sipped from her whiskey glass.

"Family trouble," he said vaguely.

"Hm, family's a bitch, isn't it?" she said truthfully. Dean smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah, it really is," he agreed.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

Dean shook his head, "Thanks, but I think I'll stick to the beer." She gave him an understanding smile. "What about you? Any particular reason you're sitting here at three in the afternoon drinking whiskey?"

She laughed humorlessly and took another sip. "Love, or lack of same. What else is there?" Dean gave a noncommittal shrug, though he inwardly he had to agree.

"What'd he do?" Dean asked.

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not gonna sit here spilling my guts if you won't."

"Fine," Dean said, giving in. "But you start."

"Fair enough," she said as she gestured to the bartender for a refill. "I just got dumped, we were together for six years and now it's over."

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry," Dean said sympathetically. She shrugged it off and waited for him to speak. "Uh, well, I got into a huge argument with my little brother. Shoved him to the floor and just bailed."

"What'd you argue about?"

"If we're really gonna go for the quid pro quo thing here, I believe it's your turn. Why'd you break up?" Dean said evasively. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"A lot of little things, I guess." She sighed again and took another sip. "It's not really anyone's fault. Which I think kinda makes it worse. If one of us had really screwed up I think it'd make it easier for me to handle this. Like if she had cheated, then I could have my righteous anger to hold on to."

"She?" Dean asked, downing the rest of his beer. The woman nodded, a glint in her eye, as if daring Dean to say something stupid, he didn't.

"Anyway... back to you."

"I don't know. He's just a kid, he doesn't get that it's my responsibility to take care of him." As the bartender came over Dean ordered another beer. He took a sip before continuing. "It's like all my life it's been my job to watch out for him but..." he trailed off and took another swig.

"Do you think maybe he doesn't need you as much as he did when he was younger? He may just want some independence."

"I'm not smothering him or anything, he doesn't want to get away, he just wants... He wants to do things that are no good for him and he wants me to be involved in it." Dean said, phrasing what he said carefully.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Nope, it's your turn." Dean said resolutely.

"Fine. Well, uh, I think things have been off for a while, it was kind of inevitable that it would end. It's just that she was my first and now six years later... the end." Dean could see tears glistening in her brown eyes as she took another sip of her drink. "It's like you know something's wrong but the denial kicks in and you ignore it, which only makes it worse." Dean nodded understandingly. "Anyway," she sniffled slightly, "What's your brother trying to do that's so bad for him?"

Dean stared at the two empty beer bottles in front of him. "Just stuff..."

"Oh, stuff, of course." The innocent sarcasm in her tone grated on his nerves. "I'm sorry, go on," she said. Dean sighed, not knowing how to proceed without telling her exactly what was going on. For a moment he debated whether or not he should just tell her; _It's not like I'll ever see her again,_ he thought. But he couldn't get the words out, instead he gestured to the bartender who served him a third beer.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the desperate need to get it off his chest but Dean finally broke down. Tears filled his eyes as he laid his head down on the bar. He felt her hand on his back.

"I love my brother," Dean whispered.

"Of course you do, sweetie," the woman said.

"No, I mean... A-And he does too. But it's... it just can't happen. It's already happened but it can't _ever_ again." he murmured. He felt her hand lift from his back as she moved in closer.

"Do you mean...?" she whispered hesitantly. Dean nodded miserably. "Well, how far has it gone?" Dean looked up, shocked that the woman hadn't walked away in disgust.

"A kiss... more than one," he whispered, completely ashamed of himself.

"You're doing the right thing. I know you're beating yourself up about this, but just the fact that you are proves that you're a decent guy. Proves you have a conscience," she said kindly.

"Yeah, but a part of me wishes I didn't --"

"Which makes you feel even worse. Oh, honey, I know how that goes." Her words were soft and comforting. Dean nodded.

"I'm so afraid I'm gonna slip, that I won't be able to hold on to my resolve." Dean whispered, closing his eyes. He felt the woman's arms come around him.

"Shh, don't worry." Despite her young age, she had the air of a mother. Dean sighed into the hug, wrapping his arms around her too. "Look, let me give you my number. If you ever need to talk don't hesitate to call." They pulled out of the hug and she rummaged in her purse for a pen. She found one within a moment and took Dean's hand, writing her phone number on the back of it.

"What's your name?" Dean asked, realizing he didn't know it.

"Oh, I'm Tara," she said, a sweet smile lighting up her features.

"I'm Dean." They shook hands. "And if _you_ ever wanna talk... well, I don't actually have a phone at the moment, but when I call, if you need to talk -- I'll listen."

"Thanks, sweetie." She drained the rest of her glass and Dean did the same.

"Well, I should probably go. Thanks for being so... understanding." Dean said as he stood up. He felt so lucky to have found someone that had just listened and not judged him. She smiled, standing to give him a hug. She waved to him as he headed out the door. "Bye," he said, waving as well.

He walked back to the motel, glancing at the number on his hand and smiling. As he got closer to the motel, to Sammy, the smile disappeared and dread began to fill him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, steeling himself.

----------------------------------------------------

_As always -- Please Comment!!! The more comments I get the happier I am and the quicker I post new chapters. Tehe. Is that petty extortion? *evil grin*  
~aep_


	13. Frozen Tears

**13. Frozen Tears**

He turned the key in the lock and slowly opened the door. He saw Sammy sitting on his bed, looking miserable as he flipped through the channels on the television. The bathroom door opened and their father strode out of it. Dean gave a small sigh of relief; he wouldn't have to be alone with his brother. He took a seat by an old battered desk that sat in the corner of the room. He looked in the drawer and found some cheap motel stationary and a pen. Dean laid them down on the desk, copying down Tara's number, then he folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He began to doodle on another piece of paper, absentmindedly humming Metallica as his pen scratched random designs onto the sheet.

"Alright boys, I'm heading out," John said as he donned his leather jacket.

"What?" Dean said, panicking slightly. "Uh, can I come with?" he asked desperate not to be alone with his brother.

"There's no need. I've just got to do a few errands, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

_A couple of hours?_ Dean thought nervously. "You sure, Dad?" he asked, biting his lip. John nodded and walked out the door. Sam studied his brother. Dean's shoulders were hunched and his whole body looked tense as he sat at the desk.

"Dean?" Sammy asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Dean said with a sigh. Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Depends on what you want to talk about," Dean said flatly. The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Then Sam stood from the bed he was on and came to sit on the one closer to where Dean sat at the desk. Dean shot up from his seat, moving to the other side of the room, Sam flinched slightly at the sudden movement. "By the way," Dean muttered, seeing his brother's alarmed reaction, "I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

"Thanks for saying that," Sam said, his eyes boring into Dean's. Dean looked down at his feet, breaking the connection. "I-I wanted to talk about... well, I wanted to talk about what you said earlier."

"That discussion is over," Dean said, a chill in his voice.

"But, Dean --"

"Sammy, no. We've already been over this."

Sam sighed as he stood again, making his way over to his brother, his eyes silently pleading to him. Dean made to move away again but as he saw the tears in his brother's eyes he became rooted to the spot. Sam slipped his arms around Dean's waist, hugging him tightly as he held back the sobs that wanted to rack his body. He pressed his head hard against Dean's chest, forgetting about the stitches under his shirt. He heard Dean wince in pain. Quickly realizing what he had done, he pulled away, muttering an apology.

"It's okay," Dean said quietly. It took all the self-control he could muster not to grab Sam and kiss him on the spot. He shut his eyes tightly, fists clenched, willing himself not to act on his thoughts.

"Dean, I-I'm sorry for this whole mess," Sam whispered, looking down at the floor as he took a seat on the nearest bed.

"Sam, it's not your fault, that's what I've been trying to tell you." He made to sit down next to his brother but stopped himself at the last moment. The farther he was from Sam, the better.

"I'm not just a kid, you know. I may be fourteen, but I'm not a kid." Dean smiled sadly at his brother's words. Sam really wasn't a child; he could even be more mature than Dean was at times. Dean had watched his brother grow up, rapidly becoming wise beyond his years, sometimes it amazed Dean. He wondered if their father could see what he saw in Sam. He doubted it, for all their father's strengths, sensitivity towards his children seemed to have died when Mary did.

Dean bit his lip and looked away from his little brother. He didn't know how he was going to hold back from touching Sammy. Dean's fingers itched to caress his cheek. He clenched his fists tighter and sat down on the other bed.

Sam slid off his bed and knelt before Dean, his head resting against Dean's legs. Dean pressed his palms hard against his eyes, trying to ignore how close Sam was to him. "Please don't," Dean begged. Sam looked up at his brother, pulling Dean's hands away from his face. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment that felt like much longer.

"I love you, Dean," Sam whispered, his face growing closer to his brother's. His lips brushed against Dean's who was sitting as still as a statue. Dean managed to hold back, not deepening the kiss, though every nerve ending in his body pleaded for him to do so. A tear fell from his eye. Sam broke the kiss, wiping away the tear track on Dean's face. Dean pushed Sam's hand away.

"I love you too, more than I should... but we can't. Please, Sammy, you gotta respect that," Dean said softly.

"I don't know if I can," Sam muttered.

"Well, you have to!" Dean said, anger lacing his words now. Sam stared into Dean's eyes defiantly.

"Stop worrying about what's correct! So what if this is --"

"A freak show?!" Dean cut across his brother. Sam's eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry," Dean whispered.

"I hate this," they said in unison. Their eyes met again, longing stirring inside both of them.

"Why do you have to make this so damn hard?" Dean whispered. Sam shrugged, an apologetic expression gracing his features. Dean turned away from his brother's sweet face.

Before they had noticed it, darkness had fallen. "L-Let's just go to bed," Dean murmured, pulling back the covers of the bed he was sitting on.

* * *

Their lips met, Dean lying gently on top of Sam. Their mouths begged hungrily for each other, the kiss becoming more intense. Within moments, their clothing lay on the floor, the bare bodies of the brothers pressed together. They breathed each other in, their lips becoming more insistent by the minute. Dean's hands roamed over Sam's body, following the slight curvature of muscles that were developing. Sam was quickly shedding the visage of a scrawny boy and becoming a man.

Moonlight filtered in from the window, casting a pale glow over their bodies. With surprising strength, Sam flipped the two of them over so he could be on top. A grin spread over Dean's full lips as his brother took control. Sam's mouth met with his, a new kiss beginning, even more passionate than the last. His hands began a journey across Dean's shoulders, over his chest, tracing the muscles down until his fingers reached the small trail of hair below his navel. Dean shuddered beneath his brother's touch. Sam began trailing kisses down the same path his fingers had followed. His own heartbeat began to quicken in time with Dean's. Sam felt his brother shiver again as his lips slowly inched lower and lower....

Sam awoke, drenched in sweat. His cheeks burned scarlet in the dark as his arm brushed against the stiffness in his pants. He surreptitiously glanced over to where his brother lay in the next bed. Dean seemed to be asleep. Sam crept out of bed, slowly making his way to the bathroom, careful not to make a sound. He shut the door and locked it, stripping down and stepping into the shower. He stifled a yell as the freezing water pelted his skin.

_God, I'm a hypocrite,_ Sam thought to himself as he stood under the jet of icy water. _I keep begging Dean to ignore his conscience, but the minute I have a dream like that I feel like the sickest freak on the planet._ He thought of all the times Dean had talked about the responsibility of being an older brother, of legally being an adult. Sam suddenly realized that the guilt he felt was probably nothing compared to Dean's. He was ashamed that he hadn't seen that before. He slid down the wall of the shower and sat cross-legged, suddenly looking much younger than he was. The tears that fell from his eyes were lost in the frozen water that continued to fall on him.

-----------------------------------------------

_God, I make the poor boys cry an awful lot, don't I? Well, the writers of the actual show do too -- "Oh, I mean the best parts are when they cry..." [Season 4, Episode 18] The Monster At The End Of This Book, anyone? Man, I loved that episode! ;)_

_Anyway, once again, REVIEWS = UPDATES! Thanks so much to everyone who is leaving reviews! I love them very much! :D_

_~aep_


	14. Warmth

**14. Warmth**

Dean's eyes slowly opened, trying to take in something besides darkness. He listened to the rain and what sounded like whimpering. As the fog of sleep lifted completely he realized it wasn't rain at all, but the shower. He slowly rose from the bed, making his way over to the bathroom. His fingers rapped the door quietly. The whimpering quickly stopped.

"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked through the locked door.

"Uh, y-yeah," came Sam's muffled voice.

"Are you sure?" Dean called back after a moment. There was silence except for the sound of the running water. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry if I woke you." Even through the door Sam's voice sounded pained. Dean bit his lip and made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the parking lot for the Impala but it was nowhere to be seen. He tentatively made his way back to the bathroom door.

"Sammy?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"What's goin' on?" Another aching moment of silence before Sam spoke again.

"N-Nothing. Just go to bed. We'll talk in the morning or something," he murmured, mortified that his brother had woken to hear him sobbing.

"Okay," Dean said, trying to disguise the worry in his voice as he shuffled back to his bed, lying down and throwing the covers over his head, eyes staring blankly into the darkness.

* * *

Pale morning sunlight filtered into the dark motel room. Dean made his way over to the window again, eyes taking in the lot; once again the '67 Impala was not there. He turned back to face the room, only to see he was alone.

"Sammy?" he called. He waited to hear Sam's voice from the bathroom again. A few minutes passed and still nothing, not even the sound of the shower to break the silence. "Sammy?!" Dean called again, quickly striding towards the bathroom. His hand closed around the cold knob, he tried to turn it but the door was locked. He banged his fist against the door, calling his brother's name out one more time. Dean noticed that the lock on the door couldn't be picked from the outside. He yelled his brother's name once more, waited a moment for a response, then kicked the door open. He grabbed the shower curtain and yanked it aside to reveal his little brother, completely submerged in water.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled again as he grabbed his brother and pulled him out of the tub. He laid Sam down flat on the grimy tile floor. His slim body was ice cold. "Oh, Christ," Dean murmured as he began to perform CPR. _God, how long has he been like this?_ he thought frantically as he breathed into Sam's mouth for the second time. He began the chest compressions, his mind racing furiously. "Come on, Sam!" Dean yelled as he pumped his little brother's chest. He leaned down again, pinching Sam's nose and opening his mouth. One breath, then before he could force the second lungful of air into his brother's cold form, water shot into his mouth. He turned Sam on his side, letting him cough all the water out.

"Thank God," Dean muttered, pulling the coughing, spluttering Sam into his arms. "You were so cold. I thought..." he couldn't finish the sentence as he held tightly to his brother. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?!" Dean blurted out, still tightly gripping Sammy to him.

"Yeah," he croaked as coughed up some more water. "I don't know, I don't even remember putting the stopper in the drain or turning off the shower or anything," Sam choked out, perplexed as he tried to remember. He began to shiver in his brother's arms. He felt dazed like maybe he was having another dream.

"That was too close..." Dean muttered, kissing Sam's wet hair. Still wrapped in Dean's embrace, it was a moment before Sam realized that he was naked. He felt himself begin to stiffen again. He was mortified; if he moved away his brother would see, but if he didn't Dean would soon feel it against his leg.

"Um... Dean --" Sam murmured, his cheeks blazing red. Dean realized what Sam was about to say.

"God, I don't care! You're alive!" he whispered, pulling his little brother in even closer. "Don't _ever_ do that again!" He helped Sam to his feet, careful to avert his eyes as he handed him a towel.

"W-Where's Dad?" Sam asked through chattering teeth as he began to dry off. Dean shrugged, pulling his brother into yet another hug. "Lemme get dressed," Sam muttered, embarrassed. Dean released him, turning his back as Sam grabbed his clothes off the floor and quickly slipped them on. Together they made their way out of the bathroom. Dean pulled back the covers of Sam's bed and tucked him into it. Sam snuggled into the blankets, still chilled. Dean took a seat on the other bed.

"Sam, what happened?" Dean asked again. "I mean, I heard you crying in the shower last night, and then I wake up to find you almost drowned..."

"I-I don't know."

"You have to know!" Dean almost yelled, his fear and relief replaced now by the anger flaring inside of him.

"But I don't!" Sam insisted. He honestly didn't remember turning off the shower or how the tub had filled with water. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Had he done that to himself on purpose? Maybe to punish himself for the thoughts and feelings that he was having; thoughts and feeling he knew he shouldn't be having. Sam shook his head slightly, pushing the idea from his head.

"What if I hadn't been able to revive you? You could've died. Your body was so cold, I thought you were dead. I was so scared." Dean murmured the last part but Sam caught it.

Dean broke his eyes away from Sam's, an aching need to kiss his little brother was sweeping over him. He inwardly begged himself to hold onto his resolve, not to break, but with every passing second the yearning became stronger. His body fought against his brain; he found himself standing, making his way over to Sam. Dean's strong arms made the familiar journey around Sam's waist. Their faces slowly drew nearer, hazel eyes coming closer every second. Then Sam felt his brother's lips on his, the cold that seemed to cling to him began to dissolve, heat radiating from Dean's lips into Sam's. The last of the cold Sam felt melted away.

"N-No," Dean breathed, trying to break the kiss.

"Please?" Sam begged in a breathy whisper. He despised himself for wanting his brother but he couldn't stop himself. Dean sighed, unable to resist, and their lips collided in another kiss. Before either of them realized it, they were lying in bed, shirts off, huddled under the blanket, lips fighting for dominance. Sam's fingers shook as they traced their way along Dean's chest, careful not to aggravate the stitches that were still there. A moan escaped from Dean, tickling Sam's lips softly. The sound of his brother's moan brought one up from his own throat.

As Sam's hands drifted lower on Dean's body he was reminded of his dream. Guilt and excitement swirled intoxicatingly through him. He pushed his reservations away as his fingers trembled toward the waist of Dean's pants. He felt his brother freeze, breathing in sharply. Sam stopped, waiting for permission that came in the form of another kiss: hungry and furious, silently begging (although begging for what, Sam didn't quite know). His hands resumed their descent, shaking more and more from fear and arousal.

Dean broke the kiss, his breath quick and shallow against Sam's neck. He couldn't even begin to decipher the emotions crashing in him: anger, fear, lust, love, shame, sadness.... His breath caught in his chest as he felt Sam's hands slip underneath his pants, slowly sliding them down. He felt himself grow hard, his thoughts and feelings creating a chaotic din, growing louder and louder with each touch.

"No," he whispered again but Sam's lips silenced him before he could protest anymore. His eyes fluttered shut as he lost himself in the kiss, in the caresses. Sam moved in closer, creating delicious friction between their bodies. "Oh, God," Dean whispered, biting his lip as his hips bucked involuntarily -- aching for more contact. Their breathing began to quicken together, hearts speeding as one. Dean's back arched further, teeth sinking deeper into his lip until he felt the salty taste of blood in his mouth. It quickly sobered him.

"Sammy, w-we can't do this," he muttered as he grabbed Sam's hands and pulled them away. Dean wished he could stop being the responsible one, he was failing miserably at it anyway. Every time he insisted that things go no further he found himself wrapped up in his brother, suddenly having to stop things all over again. Sam rested his head against Dean's shoulder, frustrated but in agreement with his brother.

"Okay, okay," Sam muttered in defeat, head still nestled in the crook of his brother's neck. Dean's hand gingerly came up to caress Sam's long locks. A shiver ran through the younger brother at Dean's simple touch. Sam curled in closer to his brother, needing to feel his warmth. He pressed his ear gently to Dean's chest, listening as their heartbeats began to slow once more. "Let's just stay like this," Sam murmured. Dean nodded and planted a kiss on Sam's forehead.

They both knew that what they were doing was wrong, but they needed it. They needed each other. They held one another, safe under the blanket that enveloped them like a shield from the world. Before long, they were asleep in each other's arms.

-------------------------------------------

_I hope this chapter gives a little more insight into how both the boys are feeling.  
And side note; I feel kind of awkward talking about the boys being aroused but I figure that's kind of an important part so if I start to shy away from it, feel free to slap me. Especially since I gave this an R rating so I would have the freedom to go there. *blushes*_

_Anyway, keep the reviews coming! Love to all the reviewers!  
~aep _


	15. Caught

**15. Caught**

John took in the sight of the clothing on the floor and his two sons clinging to each other in bed. "W-What the hell is this?" he asked, his voice breaking through their dreams and quickly waking them. They sprang apart, pulling the blanket up to their chins to hide their bare chests.

"What is this?!" John asked again, his voice rising in volume. The boys remained silent, knowing there was nothing they could say to fix the situation. "Get away from him." John grabbed Dean by the arm, pulling him out of the bed. "Oh, Jesus!" he said as he saw that his son was wearing nothing but his boxers. Dean scrambled to pick his clothes up off the floor. He hurriedly put them on, shamefaced.

"What the hell happened here?" John asked, looking from one to the other.

"N-Nothing," Sam said quickly.

"Dean, what did you do to your brother?" he asked disgustedly. Dean couldn't speak, his throat was so tight he thought he might suffocate.

"He didn't do anything to me!" Sam said defensively.

"Dad, I-I'm sorry," Dean managed to say, his voice breaking slightly.

"Don't you dare speak to me right now, either of you." John said darkly, fury burning inside of him. He couldn't believe he had walked into the room to find his sons in bed together. He slammed his eyes shut, trying to force images out of his head. Sam had been shirtless and Dean -- practically naked. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself with no success. John opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He tried again, finding his voice this time.

"Dean, you stay the hell away from you brother. When I get back here if I see you two within five feet of each other..." he left the threat hanging and stormed out the door. He knew better than to risk taking a drive when he was this mad. He walked past the car, his gait fast and his jaw clenched. Before long he found himself standing in front of a bar. He made his way inside, still fuming silently.

* * *

"Shit," Dean muttered, sinking into the bed opposite Sammy. "What the hell were we thinking?"

"We weren't really," Sam said morosely.

"Clearly," Dean spat. "It probably would've happened sooner or later. At least it didn't go any farther...."

The two of them sat in silence, images of the incriminating scene running through their heads.

_God, nothing's going right lately,_ Sam thought to himself. _Then again, when have they ever gone right?_

"Well, this just proves it has to end, once and for all," Dean said, breaking through Sam's thoughts. Sam cradled his head in his hands, he knew his brother was right. "I-I'm gonna go take a walk," Dean murmured. Sam wanted to tell his brother to stay but the words caught in his throat and he watched his brother shove his wallet into his pocket and walk out the door.

Dean sighed as the crisp air hit his face. He began to make his way to a gas station that wasn't more than five blocks away where he had seen a payphone. The slip of paper Dean had written Tara's number in was in his other pair of pants. But as he glanced at his hand he gave a sigh of relief; he was just able to make out the faded numbers.

He fished a few dimes out of his wallet as he came to stand in front of the payphone. He heard them jangle as they fell down the slot. He dialed the number and waited as it rang.

"Hello?" Tara's voice met his ears.

"Uh, hi Tara. It's Dean. I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer to talk?" he asked apprehensively. Part of him wondered if she would be as accepting of him if she was sober.

"Yeah, of course! Do you wanna meet in person?" she asked.

"Sure. I'm actually standing at a payphone so that sounds good. But, uh, I don't have a car."

"Oh, no problem. Where are you?"

He glanced at the street sign. "I'm at the Exxon on, uh, Hooker Avenue."

"Okay, I know where that is, that road intersects with Church Street which I find kind of hilarious." They both chuckled slightly. "I'll be there, gimme like fifteen minutes." They said their goodbyes and Dean hung up the phone, sinking down to sit on the curb.

Before long an old gray station wagon pulled up with Tara in the driver's seat. Dean got in. Tara gave him a kiss on the cheek than turned back out onto the road. A minute later they passed Church Street.

"Nice, you weren't kidding," Dean said. She smiled and nodded. "So, um, how are you?"

"Doing better," Tara said. "Diane and I are talking again. I don't know if anything will come of it, but it's kinda nice. What about you? You sounded really stressed out on the phone."

"Yeah." Dean sighed and began to explain the situation.

"Oh, crap!" Tara muttered when he reached the part about their father walking in. Dean nodded. The car pulled into the parking lot of an old brick apartment building.

"Third floor," Tara said as she unlocked the front door and ushered him inside. They climbed the plush red carpeting upstairs. Tara unlocked the door with the brass number 37. "Sorry, it's kind of a royal mess."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said as Tara turned on a few lights and led him to the couch in the living room. He looked around the small room. The clutter was actually sort of nice, it looked like a real home, something Dean couldn't really remember having.

Dean spilled out all his complaints and worries. Tara just listened. Dean was comforted by the kind expression on her face, she still wasn't judging him. He finally stopped speaking.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" Tara offered. "I'm gonna get something for myself."

"Oh, um, okay. Thanks." He watched her make her way to the tiny kitchen. He heard her bustling around. Dean stood and came to lean against the door frame. She smiled in greeting and turned the stove on.

After they had finished eating Dean stood from the small table, thanking her for everything. She rose from the table too, leaning over to give him a hug. He sighed and spoke into her hair.

"I don't think I'm able to fully express how grateful I am to you." She squeezed him a little tighter, appreciating his words. "But, I should probably get back..." he said resignedly.

* * *

Dean stepped out of the car, Tara did too. She came around to give him another hug. "I'm really glad you called," she whispered.

"Me too."

He waved as she pulled out of the parking lot, then made his way to the motel room. He saw Sammy staring out the window at him. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, a feeling of uneasiness spread over him.

"Is Dad still out?" he asked quietly. Sam nodded.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, trying to keep the hint of jealousy out of his voice.

"A friend," Dean said.

"W-When did you meet?"

"A few days ago. Listen, can we not talk right now? I'm not mad at you," Dean assured his little brother, seeing the look on his face. "I-I just can't deal with it right now. I've been mulling it over for hours; I need a break."

Sam nodded as he turned away from his brother and sank down into the bed that they had been caught in a few hours ago. Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. His finger touched his lips as he remembered the sweet kisses they had shared.

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_I actually drive by a road that intersects with Hooker Ave. followed by Church St. I don't know, it just entertains me. ;) It's also kind of interesting that Hooker Ave. is a Dead End and Church St. is One Way. Alright, well I'm done discussing roads._

_Comments please!!!  
~aep _


	16. Answers

**16. Answers**

The alcohol in his system hadn't placated him at all. He was still utterly disgusted and furious, but he knew he had to go back to that motel room sooner or later. John didn't want to discuss it or even punish it. That would mean acknowledging it and he didn't think he could handle that.

He found himself standing in front of the door. He took a deep breath and pulled the key out of his pocket. He fumbled with it for a moment then managed to open the door. He was slightly relieved to see his sons sitting on opposite beds. As usual, Sam had a book open in front of him and Dean was staring blankly at a commercial on the television. They looked up as he walked in, they of them remained silent. An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between the three of them. Sam and Dean knew to stay quiet, which was fine by them. The first confrontation had been horrifying enough, nobody was eager to start the second round.

John sat down at the desk, his back to the boys. Shaking his head and sighing, he stared out the window. He watched as cars zoomed past, trying to focus on the street instead of the sickening thoughts swirling in his head. It was futile, all he could see were his children in each other's arms, like lovers. His head fell into his hands as he shut his eyes tightly, trying to banish the image emblazoned in his mind.

"We're, uh, we're leaving town tomorrow. Some research turned up a possible haunting a few states over," he said over his shoulder as calmly and evenly as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his sons nod slowly. John closed his eyes again, wondering if it would have been better to never know. He almost wished he could be ignorant of the whole situation but at the same time the thought of his boys having some secret relationship that went on and on made him bristle. Another thought occurred to him: _How long has it been going on? And how far has it actually gone?_ He quickly pushed the questions out of his head.

* * *

The silence was tangible and harsh in the small car. Everyone was uncomfortable in such close quarters. At least in the motel room they could move into their own little spaces instead of being forced to sit within a few inches of each other.

For six excruciating hours they sat in silence. Finally, John pulled into a small motel parking lot. He got out, slamming the door forcefully. The boys got out of the car as well, standing awkwardly against it. They watched their father step out of the office a moment later, a key clenched tightly in his hand. They slipped their bags over their shoulders and followed John at a good distance.

They stepped into the room, the quiet still eating away at the three of them. Finally Dean broke the silence; "Dad?" John glanced at his son wearily from the doorway. "Are you gonna need any help on this job?" John shook his head. His lips were tightly pursed as though it was taking all the self-control he had not to shout. He turned and walked back outside. His sons watched him leave through the open door.

Now that it was just the two of them, the silence seemed even heavier somehow. They each took a seat on a bed, staring at the gaudy red wallpaper that surrounded them.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Pretend it never happened and make sure it never does again." Dean said flatly. Sam hung his head and stared at the untied laces of his sneakers. He heard Dean's fingers move over the remote control, clicking the TV on. Dean surfed through the channels for half an hour but nothing was able to hold his interest. He finally shut it off and laid back on the bed, a sad sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes.

Sam studied the curves of Dean's body. The slim line of his legs, the well-toned chest, the strong chin and full lips, those beautiful eyes with the long lashes....

Dean could feel his brother's eyes on him. And in spite of himself, a part of him liked that Sam was looking.

* * *

Dean awoke to the quiet opening and closing of the door. He glanced at it and saw his father standing just inside the room. He turned to see if Sammy had woken but he seemed to still be asleep. John gestured for Dean to follow him outside.

"When did this start?" John asked quietly once he had closed the door behind them. He was finally voicing the questions he still wasn't sure he wanted an answer for. Dean couldn't look into his father's eyes as he spoke.

"After that werewolf Sam took out," Dean whispered, his voice barely audible. John took a deep breath, his hands balling into fists as he shoved them in his pockets.

"A-And how far has it gone?" The disgust in John's voice was thick and heavy, thinking the worst.

"N-No, it's not what you think --"

"What the hell am I supposed to think?!" John spat, his voice rising. He took another deep breath and focused on lowering his voice. "What the hell am I supposed to think, Dean?" he asked again. "I saw you two, practically naked all wrapped up in each other in bed. You're brothers, for Christ's sake!" His voice came out in a hiss that almost felt like a physical blow to Dean.

"I-I know, but nothing happened, I swear." he whispered weakly. John stared into the eyes of his eldest son in disbelief.

"Looks like a lot happened from where I was standing," he growled. "How the hell could you do this to your brother? You've fuckin' stripped him of his, his... innocence!" The anger and disappointment that mingled in John's voice burned Dean's ears.

"I know," Dean whispered dejectedly.

All the fury in John burst and before he could stop himself he had taken a swing at his son. Dean was knocked down, his jaw throbbing painfully, his hands red raw from trying to break his fall against the pavement. He gingerly felt his jaw, it would soon swell and turn a nasty purple. And while the fact that his father had hit him hurt more than the actual contact, he couldn't help but feel he deserved far worse.

John shook out his hand and walked purposefully back towards the Impala, once again running away from his sons and the sickening thought of what was going on between them. Dean watched sadly from the ground as the black car skidded out of the parking lot and out of sight.

------------------------------------------

_Aw, poor Dean. The big brother always gets all the blame, especially in the Winchester family._

_Anyway, back to the usual begging:  
Comments are my crack. Feed my addiction and I shall love you all forever. Mwah!  
~aep_


	17. Close

**17. Close**

Sam's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dark. He looked around only to see that he was alone in the room. The bathroom door was open and no one was inside. Sam got to his feet and shuffled to the window, pulling back the thick gray curtains to see outside. The sky had faded into hues of purple and dark blue; a few stars had bloomed high above. He saw that the car was gone and just as Sam was about to let the curtain fall back into place he noticed his brother sitting in front of the door outside. He walked over and quickly opened it.

Dean, who had been leaning against the door, nearly fell back through the doorway as it opened. He looked up to see Sammy staring at him.

"What are you doing outside?" Sam asked. He suddenly noticed that Dean was sporting a bloody lip.

"Nothing," Dean answered evasively, wiping at his lip when he saw his brother looking at it. "I was talking to Dad," he said after a moment.

"Did he do that to you?" Sam asked, almost afraid to hear the answer though he already knew it. Dean shrugged and nodded as he wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. He slipped past Sam into the room and took a seat on top of the large oak dresser that was against the wall across from the beds. Sam sat down on one of the beds and faced his brother. The two of them sat in silence as the room slowly turned pitch black. Sam spoke, almost grateful that he couldn't see his brother in the darkness.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" Dean asked, perplexed.

"For making you stay with me... in bed. It's my fault Dad caught us."

"No, it's not, Sam. It's m--"

"Don't say it's your fault! Just because you're older doesn't mean that you should take the blame," Sam said angrily, sick of hearing Dean's talks of nobility and responsibility.

"B--"

"No! I mean it, Dean! Stop blaming yourself for everyth--"

"And why shouldn't I? Sam, Dad's right! I'm sorry he had to find out like that but in a way it's good. Now we have to stop. God, it should never have started in the first place." He stood up and slowly made his way over to Sam, trying to feel his way in the darkness. He reached his little brother, his hand accidentally brushing against Sam's cheek. Dean knelt down in front of him and spoke again. "It never should've gone this f--"

"God! I know, Dean!" Sam yelled, his voice breaking as angry tears began to well in his eyes. "Just… stop saying that! I heard you the first twenty times."

"I don't think you really did." Dean said in a sad, simple voice. Sam stood up and clumsily moved away from his brother. He made his way towards the nightstand and reached blindly for the lamp switch. He managed to find it; he clicked it on and looked his brother straight in the eye.

"Dean, you don't get it?" he said in frustration. "I know we can't, we shouldn't, but we _did_." He sighed and sat back down on the bed. "Dean, feeling your arms around me, your lips against mine... I know it's supposed to be wrong, b-but it's the one thing in my life that feels --"

"Right?" Dean finished. Sam nodded. "I know. Me too," he admitted reluctantly. "I mean there's still this guilt that's, like, crushing me but…" his voice trailed away, unable to continue. He wanted to tell Sam exactly how wonderful it felt to kiss him and to hold him but he couldn't get the words out. In the past few weeks he had actually begun to share his thoughts and feelings, to voice them out loud, but he didn't think he could swallow his pride long enough to say the truth now. It would make him so vulnerable. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to speak -- he had to try.

"Holding you in my arms and kissing you, I forget all the bad that's happened to us. I feel genuine happiness. I --"

Sam suddenly slid off the bed and knelt in front of his big brother, lips meeting and drowning out the rest of Dean's words. Sam's arms came to rest around Dean's neck as he gently but firmly parted Dean's lips with his. He ran his tongue along Dean's lower lip, slowly pulling a moan from his older brother. Dean's hands slid their way up Sam's back and tangled themselves in his long hair.

The soft fingertips combing through his hair sent shivers down Sam's spine. His lips parted from Dean's, gently making their way down the line of his bruised jaw to his neck. Dean pulled his baby brother away. For a minute Sam was afraid he was going to hear his brother protest what they were doing again but Dean remained silent as he swept Sam's thin frame into his arms and carried him over to the bed. He gently laid him down, coming to rest beside him. This time it was Dean's lips that traveled over Sam's neck, tenderly kissing and sucking at the soft flesh.

"Whoa, hold on, if you leave a hickey… just not a good idea," Sam muttered. He felt Dean's head nod against his neck then move lower, trailing kisses across his chest. Another shiver ran through him as he felt Dean's soft lips move lower, coming to rest at his nipple, tongue swirling over it.

"Oh, Dean," whispered Sam. Dean stopped to look up at his brother questioningly. "No, don't stop, it feels good," Sam assured him. The wicked grin that often graced Dean's features spread across his lips then as he lowered his head back down to his brother's chest. After a few moments he made his way lower, drawing a small moan from Sam. Dean's tongue slowly dipped into Sam's navel and then down a fine trail of hair. Dean's hands slid down Sam's slender hips until they reached the waistline of his pants. His fingers reached for the button and zipper that held the pants snug around Sam's waist. He deftly undid them and slid Sam's pants off. His hand slowly moved over Sam's boxers, another sly smile crossing his face. The smile faded a little as his bruise throbbed painfully, reminding him of the punch his father had thrown a few hours ago. He paused for a moment, gingerly feeling the swollen area that was no doubt already a deep purple. Sam sat up, his own fingers resting carefully against Dean's face.

"I'm sorry he hit you," he whispered. Dean shook his head.

"Not your fault," he murmured. At that moment they heard the roar of an engine grow closer. Dean jumped up and looked out the window. "It's Dad," he warned. Sam grabbed his jeans and threw them back on, then pulled the blanket over himself and shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Dean followed suit in the other bed, hand reaching out at the last minute to shut off the lamp. Both of them thought their pounding hearts would give them away in a second but thankfully, their father entered the room, oblivious once again.

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_Wow, I have a thing for writing scenes that end in close calls -- total cock-blockage. Partly because I feel too awkward to turn anything into a full-blown sex scene and partly because plot-wise I don't think it's really developed enough for that._

_Well, anyway... Comments are love, please spread it around generously. I appreciate my commenters more than I can say. Y'all keep me posting!  
~aep _


	18. Back To Athens

**18. Back To Athens**

John tossed a newspaper into his eldest son's arms without a word. Dean looked at the large headline on the front page. _MURDERING TEAM ERIC AND KELLY WRIGHT ESCAPE CUSTODY_

"Oh shit!" Dean breathed as he read the article. "Fuck." He threw the paper to the floor and sat on his hands to keep them from shaking. "I should've killed them when I had the chance. There've already been three more disappearances since they escaped. They haven't even been sentenced yet, they were being transported to the courthouse when they escaped."

As much as he hated himself for it, in that moment the fact that they had escaped didn't bother him quite as much as the news that they were siblings. When he had seen them together they definitely seemed intimate. He wondered wryly if all siblings that committed incest were either totally psychotic or just hicks. He forced himself to focus on what was important: the three newly kidnapped college students.

"We have to go back," Dean said. He had hoped that his voice would come out firm and determined but it sounded weak and pleading. Nevertheless, John nodded in agreement.

"And this time, we do things my way," he growled.

"Yes sir."

* * *

Once again the three of them sat in silence as they drove back to Athens. They crossed over the Ohio state line after four or five hours. Not long after that they found themselves in Athens. John checked them into a motel, a different place from the one they had stayed at the last time they were there.

"How do we know they're even here? I mean I would think they'd run. The police will be mounting a full-scale search," Sam said as he sat down at the old desk in their room. Dean shrugged.

"We don't have any better leads yet so we have to start here. Plus the three more kidnapped students are from Ohio University too. So they might still be around," Dean said.

"Dean, this is your mess, so you're gonna clean it up -- under my supervision," John said coldly.

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled. "Well, there's no way they went back to that house but maybe if we did we could find something that might lead to where they're holed up now."

"Don't you think the police'll have it under surveillance?" Sam asked.

"They might. It's only been three days since Eric and Kelly escaped so they probably do have at least one car monitoring the place," Dean thought aloud. "Dad and I'll go to check it out later tonight. If the police are there we'll flash 'em our badges. Dad, -- FBI this time?" John nodded. Silence settled over the three of them for a minute.

"It's getting dark," Sam commented. Dean nodded, glancing absentmindedly out the window.

"We should leave soon," Dean said. Their father gave a grunt of affirmation.

* * *

The Impala moved smoothly down August Road. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw a black sedan parked across the street from the house.

"Wow, subtle," Dean murmured sarcastically. He glanced at 2349 August Road. He hadn't noticed it before in his panic but now he could see just how foreboding the house was. It was in desperate need of repair; the gray panels that covered the house were dingy and falling off. A round window in the attic was cracked in such a way that when the moonlight hit it, it looked like a large spider's web waiting to ensnare its next victim. A shudder ran through his body before he could stop it. He could feel his father's eyes on him, making him want to melt into his seat and disappear.

As John parked the car the next block over the seething resentment that had taken hold of him since he had seen his sons in each other's arms seemed ready to boil over. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself enough to focus on the job. And while the anger he felt was directed at both his children, he couldn't help feeling something almost close to hatred towards Dean. He wished he could love his children unconditionally but in the past few days he almost wanted to wash his hands of them. It was too painful to think that perhaps it was his fault that they had turned out the way they did. He took a deep breath and forced himself to open his eyes. He got out of the car, feeling for the badges in his coat pocket. He came around the car to hand one of them to Dean, careful not to actually touch Dean's hand. The two of them walked in silence back to the police car.

John knocked on the driver's window with impressive authority. The redheaded woman in the driver's seat lowered her window, eyes sharp and calculating. Her partner on the passenger side looked over questioningly but he didn't have the same air of intelligence that she possessed.

John flashed his badge and spoke: "We have orders to search 2349 August Road. We're notifying you as a simple matter of courtesy."

The woman held out her hand for John's badge. "His too," she said glancing at Dean. They handed them over. She studied them for a moment then gave them back. She nodded curtly. They turned and made their way across the street to the house, feeling the police officers' watching them.

Dean quickly unlocked the door. He noted the paint chips where the police tape had been not long ago. He pushed it open, allowing his father to enter first. John flicked the hall light on. The light was weak but enough to see the area clearly .

"I'll go over this floor and the basement. You check out the second floor and the attic." John ordered his son, his voice brittle and cold. Dean nodded and made his way down the hall and upstairs.

His hand closed around the doorknob of the first bedroom. He hesitated for a moment then opened the door. The smell of death was still strong and dried pools of blood could be seen on the floor where the bodies of the four young men had been. He remembered each of them perfectly; the gashes in their arms and legs, the huge bruises that covered their bodies, the terrified looks on their faces -- faces half hidden by the blood that had dripped down from where their heads had bean bashed in…. Dean shut his eyes tightly, trying to banish the memories. When they left Athens he thought he had left it all behind him, but now that they were here again it all came rushing back to him. A single tear slid down his face, he wiped it away furiously and forced himself to enter the room.

He was careful not to step on the blood stains on the floor, instead he walked around them, making his way to the dresser. He tore up each drawer but found absolutely nothing, not that he had really expected to find anything there. He made his way out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Dean walked purposefully to the next room, gulping as he opened the door. Once again he was assaulted by the images of the victims, the five dead girls that had been strewn across the room. More dried blood on the floor and in the bed. He proceeded to search that room and then the next where the two survivors had been, but he still didn't find anything. He went back out into the hall and pulled the string that opened the hatch to the attic. A flimsy wooden ladder tumbled down and Dean climbed up it, thankful for the flashlight in his back pocket because it was pitch black and there wasn't a light switch.

He couldn't stand up straight in the cramped room. It was musty and everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. It was tomb-like; there wasn't even any sign of small animals having ever lived up there. The broad beam of light that came from his flashlight swept over the attic. There were only two boxes in the entire place, sitting right against the wall underneath the circular window that resembled a spider web. He gingerly made his way across the attic, careful to step lightly on the wooden floor because some of the boards looked rotted and ready to break. His fingers reached for the box on the left, he opened it and was immediately hit by the powerful stench of decay. The box was stuffed with small dead animals: squirrels, mice, sparrows.

"Jesus," he whispered disgustedly. Dean wondered if there was anything else in the box besides the dead animals. He upended the box, the small bodies tumbling to the floor pathetically. But on top of the pile was what looked like the back of a photograph. He picked it up, careful not to touch anything else and turned it around to look at the picture.

Two children, a boy and a girl a few years apart in age stood on either side of a tall man whose face had been scribbled out. Behind the three of them stood a large, faded red barn. He wiped the dirt off both sides of it with his jacket sleeve. He took a closer look at the expressions of the children. They looked miserable. The boy was a bit taller and older, probably ten or so with dark hair and taut skin. The girl looked about seven or eight. She was stick-thin with a sallow complexion and ratty brown hair. He looked behind them but there was nothing too distinctive about the geography of the place except for the barn and he was sure there were no shortages of them in Ohio or wherever this had been taken. He flipped the picture over again and now that the dirt had been wiped away he could see tiny, slanted print in the bottom right hand corner. He squinted to make it out: _Harrison, OH 1981_

"Okay, that narrows things down a bit," he murmured to himself with a flicker of hope. He went through the second box, full of bloody mouse traps and a few pocket knives. A few more pictures of the children were at the bottom with the same scrawl on the back. They still looked miserable but maybe a year or two older than in the first picture. These pictures had been taken inside a dimly-lit room. He combed over them, looking for any possible clues but there was nothing. He tossed them back in the box and made his way back downstairs. Hearing movement in the basement, he carefully went down the familiar rickety steps. "Hey," he muttered to his father whose back was turned on him.

"D'you find anything?" John grunted over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think so," Dean said, coming to stand beside his father and holding out the old photograph with the barn. He noticed how careful his father was not to let their hands touch, like when he had handed Dean his badge earlier.

"Good. I haven't turned up anything down here," he said squinting at the back of the picture. "Harrison's not too far from here." Dean nodded. "All right, let's go."

Dean followed his father up the stairs and out of the house. They walked in silence back to the car. As the engine roared to life and they pulled out into the street Dean couldn't help but feel a certain excitement knowing that they could very well be one step closer to stopping those freaks.

--------------------------------------------------

_Long chapter (for me anyway). Please tell me what you think -- Leave a comment. I've said it before and I'll just keep saying it -- REVIEWS = LOVE! Thanks so much to everyone who leaves a review. You guys make my day!  
~aep _


	19. Family Dysfunction

**19. Family Dysfunction**

A goofy grin spread across Sam's face as he watched his brother enter after their father. He quickly tried to hide it, afraid John would read too much into it (though if he did, he would be right).

"Um, how'd it go?" Sam asked.

"We found an old picture taken in Harrison --" Dean began, only to be cut off by John.

"Yeah, we're leaving tonight. We should be there in an hour," he said curtly. His sons glanced at him and began gathering the few belongings that they carried with them.

* * *

"But, uh, how are we gonna find the right barn?" Sam asked from the backseat as they crossed the town line into Harrison.

"Well, for tonight we'll drive around a little and if nothing catches our eye, we'll question the locals tomorrow morning." John quickly explained as he turned the radio on, clearly indicating he didn't want to discuss anything further.

Dean studied the photo from the passenger seat. A tall tree stood behind the barn but other than that there were only fields. He looked out the window, a few old two-story houses flew past, slowly becoming more spread apart. Up ahead, the outline of a large barn could be seen. His eyes widened, wondering if it could really be that easy. But as they got closer it was clear that the barn was new, maybe only a few years old, nothing like the old battered barn in the picture from 1981.

"Can I see the picture?" Sam asked. Dean turned to pass it to his brother. Their fingers brushed and their eyes locked. Dean quickly pulled away and faced front. "How do we know if the place hasn't been torn down by now or something?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach from the moment he had shared with Dean. His big brother shrugged.

"Well, when we talk to some people tomorrow we should find out more," Dean murmured. He could feel a dull glow creeping into his cheeks from when his fingers had brushed Sam's and he hoped no one would notice.

* * *

Dean slid the picture across the counter, "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this place, or the people in it." The old sheriff studied him for a moment over his large glasses. He bent down closer to the photo to take a look. He nodded slowly.

"The Wrights. What a mess," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry?" Dean asked, hoping Sheriff Mantle would elaborate.

"This man here," he jabbed his finger at the face that had been scribbled into oblivion, "Sick bastard. I arrested him myself back in… 1984 I think it was."

"Could I see a copy of the police report?" Dean asked.

"What does the FBI want with an old file like that?" he asked sharply.

"I'm sure you've heard about the kidnappings and murders that Eric and Kelly Wright have recently been apprehended for?" The man nodded. "Well, we're trying to build a psychological profile for the two of them. And time is of the essence now that they've escaped." Sheriff Mantle nodded again and turned away. He walked into a back room and emerged a few minutes later with a slightly yellowed folder. He handed it to Dean.

Dean opened it and scanned over the pages. "So what was your take on the whole thing?" he asked, still looking over the report.

"It was just a mess. It got around town fast too; everyone was lookin' to lynch the bastard." Dean nodded. His eyes caught at certain words: _Years of steady child abuse, Beatings, Rape…_

"The things he did to those kids of his," the sheriff bristled slightly. "Not only did he abuse them, but he made them abuse each other…" he whispered.

Dean shook his head in disgust. "Sick fuck," Dean whispered to himself. The sheriff heard him though and nodded fervently. "So what happened to Kelly and Eric?"

"Bounced around in different foster homes, I tried to keep track but they were booted out of so many I couldn't follow their trails," the sheriff told Dean.

"Could you tell me exactly where this farm is?" Dean asked, pulling the photo out from under the report. The sheriff wrote down the directions on a slip of paper from his desk.

"Thank you. All right, well you've been a great help," Dean said as he took the paper from him, "I might need to speak to you again, but for now this'll keep me busy." The sheriff nodded and Dean walked out of the police station.

------------------------------------------------

_So, the mandatory begging for reviews has come once again. Please, if you take the time to read this story, take another minute to tell me what you think. I really appreciate it and the more comments I get the sooner I get = The quicker I post. :)_

_Anyway, sorry this chapter's a bit short. The next one is longer and fairly twisted. You've been warned.  
_

_~aep_


	20. Freak

**20. Freak**

Sam lay sprawled on the motel bed, bored but unable to focus on anything that could take his mind off his brother. He desperately wanted to feel Dean's lips against his again, but with this case there wasn't a spare moment. He understood why Dean was so eager to take care of it but that didn't stop him from missing his big brother.

His thoughts finally turned elsewhere, which would have been good if the picture in his head now wasn't his father's disgusted face. The coldness that emanated from John in the past few days was too much to take. "Not that John Winchester has always been the warmest of fathers, but…" Sam muttered to himself. He sighed and buried his head in a pillow. He wondered if the two of them had found the barn yet.

Even though he knew that his father and brother were perfectly capable of protecting themselves he still felt a certain amount of anxiety each time they went out on a hunt. That familiar creeping fear seemed to make his stomach writhe. And once again, he tried to force the thoughts from his head but couldn't.

* * *

The Impala cruised by the old dilapidated barn. An rusty pickup truck was parked outside of it. John and Dean exchanged a significant look, and for one minute it seemed as though things were back to normal. Then John broke his eyes away from his son's and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll check out the barn, you do the house," he ordered.

"What house?" Dean asked. His eyes to where followed his father's finger was pointing. A small yellow house sat almost completely hidden behind the barn. He nodded. John parked the car behind a large tractor on the other side of the dirt road. They went around to the trunk and pulled a few handguns out from it.

The sun was setting as they crossed the road. John made his way towards the barn and Dean walked over to the little house. He moved quietly up the porch steps and opened the screen door so he could pick the lock of the wooden one behind it. He grimaced as the door creaked open. He quietly made his way down the darkening hall, gun clutched firmly in his hand, the metal heating at his touch. A sliver of light could be seen from under the door to his right. He pressed his ear against it, just barely able to make out voices.

"God, how the hell are we gonna get out of this?" a young woman's shaky voice asked.

"I-I don't know but we have to somehow," another woman's voice replied. The first woman gasped quietly.

"The door," she whispered so quietly that Dean wasn't sure if maybe he had just imagined her speaking. He grabbed the knob and turned it. The door swung open to reveal two girls in tattered clothes tied to a radiator against the back wall and a third dead on the floor, a dried pool of blood visible underneath her. The two girls' eyes widened at the sight of him. They looked half-relieved half-terrified, like they weren't sure if he was their savior or an accomplice to their torturers.

"It's okay," he whispered as he entered the room, slipping his gun into his back pocket to untie the girls.

"Thank you," one of them whispered with a tremble. She had pretty blond hair that looked like someone had singed the ends of. She had a large cut on her cheek that was caked with dry blood and bruises covered both their bodies. The other girl had dark skin and black hair that had been unevenly cut short against her scalp. Fresh blood trickled from under her hairline, creating a trail close to her right eye.

"Where are they?" he whispered as he finished untying them.

"I-I don't know. But I think they're still in the house," the dark-haired girl whispered, wiping at the blood dribbling down her face with her newly-free hand.

"Okay, stay here. Barricade the door behind me," he whispered hastily and stood up. They nodded. He turned and left the room silently. He stood in the darkness for a moment, straining to hear anything. A loud thud came from above. He pulled his gun from his pocket and slowly made his way upstairs, wincing each time the stair creaked beneath him.

Dean finally reached the landing, squinting in the darkness. His eyes swept across the doors but no light could be seen from under them. He bit his lip as he walked on the thick carpet in the hall, thankful that it muffled his footsteps. He passed one door, stopping to listen for a moment then moved on to the next. At the third door he could hear movement. He kicked it open, gun held tightly in front of him. He could just barely make out the two of them in bed; Eric on top of his sister.

"You?!" Eric asked furiously as he threw the covers off of them and got up off of Kelly, both were completely naked.

"Oh, dude, I did not need to see that," Dean sneered.

He fired his gun just as Eric reached for a knife that was on top of the pillow. He watched as the blood trickled down Eric's chest. Eric stood there looking shocked for a moment then collapsed to the floor, dead. Kelly yelled furiously, reaching for the knife that was now on the floor, still clutched in her brother's hand.

Dean didn't know why he had to at that moment, but he froze, staring into her face that was splattered with her brother's blood. She lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. He felt the blade sink into his shoulder, sending shooting hot pain through his arm.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled out. A maniacal grin spread across her face as she twisted the knife in his shoulder. "Fuck!" He pushed her off of him, punching her so hard she was knocked out.

* * *

John had left to drive the girls to the hospital, leaving Dean there at his request. His father had given him a calculating look, but allowed him to stay, stipulating that he would be back as soon as the girls had been dropped off at the emergency room.

Dean climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the second floor landing. His shoulder ached badly but he had stopped the blood flow by making a tourniquet out of a ripped-up bed sheet. He knew he had to get to a hospital soon but the pain was almost drowned out by his yearning to understand; understand what could drive to people to such hideous acts. He entered the room where Eric lay dead and where he had tied Kelly to a chair in the corner, a sheet thrown over her shoulders to cover her naked form.

"What is this, payback?" she spat, tears glistening in her eyes.

"No. I want to know why," Dean said softly.

"Fuck you!" she yelled, her eyes shooting daggers at Dean. After a moment she broke eye contact to look at the body of her brother, now covered with a blanket. The tears finally spilled down her cheeks and for a second Dean actually felt sorry for her. But then the faces of all the people she and her brother had killed flashed in his mind and the moment of compassion he felt for her was gone.

He strode towards her, hands clamping down on her bound arms. "WHY?!" he yelled. Sheer hatred emanated from both of them as they looked into each other's eyes. She spat in his face but he didn't even care; the rage coursing through him consumed him, leaving no space for any other thoughts.

"What do you want me to say? Talk about my rotten childhood? Psychoanalyze myself for you?"

"For starters, yeah, why not?" Dean growled.

"No," she whispered. His anger boiled over; he slapped her so hard that her chair almost tipped over.

"Fuck you," she said again. Her cheek was red raw where he had hit her but Dean couldn't care less at that moment.

"Look, sweetie. This isn't like in the movies when the villain confesses all her secrets in the end," she said vehemently.

"You don't have to tell me this isn't a movie. I've seen your work first-hand. I-I just don't understand how you could torture and kill all those people."

"Don't be so naïve," she whispered, a glint in her eye. "Is it so shocking that one human being could hurt another?"

"No, but what you and your brother did is so far beyond that."

She sneered. "Yeah, we're killers. But you're not one to talk. My brother is dead on the floor because of you."

"That's different! I had to stop him --"

"A human life is a human life, even if you kill a 'bad guy'." she whispered.

"It's funny to think of someone like you having a moral code. I mean, because of course, it's very clear just how much you value human life," Dean sneered, his face just a few inches from hers. There was something in her eyes, not just the fury and loathing anymore but something close to smug amusement. Dean fought the urge to hit her again as her lips curled into a small smile.

"What the hell are you smiling about?!" he yelled into her face.

"I just find it very interesting at how desperately you need to understand…. It's beyond the fact that those people are dead. Sure, you're torn up about it, that's obvious. But there's something else." Her smile grew wider.

"Shut. Up." he whispered menacingly.

"Ooh, we seem to have struck a nerve," Kelly whispered back.

"Shut up!" Dean said again.

"So… what's she like? Pretty? _Fuckable_? Let me guess, you're the strong big brother watching out for his little sister. But you want more, don't y--" Dean's hand shot across her face again, even harder than last time.

"I don't have a sister, you bitch."

She licked the blood pooling under her bottom lip, still smiling. "So, a little _brother_ then?" Her eyes shined maliciously. "Didn't figure you for the type -- all the swashbuckling bravado. Such a manly man. I pictured you chasing after all the girls. Well, I guess it takes all kinds." Dean's fists clenched tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he listened to her speak.

"But, no, you can't think of anything else besides that baby brother of yours, can you? Have you fucked him yet? Or do you just want to?"

"Shut up!" he yelled, finding his voice again.

"Funny, here I was thinking you wanted me to talk. You know, explain all my dirty deeds to you. And if you'd just stop to listen you'd realize that's exactly what I'm doing. You just haven't gotten to the punch line yet. But I can see that you're impatient, so let's skip some of the exposition, shall we?" she asked, the playful glint in her eye taunting him. His jaw was clenched so tightly he could barely swallow.

"Bottom line: you're just like us. Sick thoughts stuffed in that pretty little head of yours -- sex and violence. Then again, what else is there?" She smirked, one eyebrow arching slightly. The bottom fell out of Dean's stomach as he realized that the expression on her face was one he often had on his own.

"Come on, admit it. It was thrilling – snuffing out my brother's life." Fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks but the smirk remained, slowly growing into a completely demented smile.

"No," he whispered firmly. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, please. It's not the first time you've fired a gun, that's a given. You're obviously a skilled hunter." Dean's heart hammered in his chest. "And I'm guessing the bigger the game the better," she said softly, her eyes searching his face. He tried his best to keep his expression blank but he was starting to panic. He wondered if she really knew just what kind of hunter he was. "You get off on it -- putting bullet holes through Bambi's head."

"You're completely whacked," he said with a small smile, feeling slightly relieved.

"I'm not the only one, love," she whispered, staring pointedly at him. "You can deny it all you want, but that doesn't stop it from being true. You're a killer now. And not only that, but you want to fuck your brother. I mean, come on, you're a _freak_. Course, I didn't have to worry about this with my dad -- he was in charge of the 'festivities', but I can just imagine the look on _your_ parents' faces if they ever found out. I can practically see your mother sobbing--"

A shot rang out, and Kelly slumped in the chair, dead with a bullet lodged in her heart. It took Dean a minute to realize that he had pulled the trigger. He didn't even remember aiming the gun at her. He just stared at her lifeless form, half-hoping that this was all just some horrible dream. He watched the blood trickle down between her breasts, beginning to soak the sheet that had fallen from her shoulders at some point and now rested around her waist.

"Dean?" He turned to see his father framed in the doorway. Dean started; he hadn't heard John climb the stairs. "Dean?" John asked again. His eyes swept over the room, pausing over the blanket that covered Eric's body and then at Kelly. Dean stood still as a statue, staring right through his father, dazed.

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_Wow, long, twisted chapter. I feel like a psycho for writing that. *twitch* Well, REVIEWS!  
~aep _


	21. Monster

**21. Monster**

John looked into his son's eyes, trying to discern his thoughts. Dean seemed to be growing paler by the moment. John's eyes fell to his son's shoulder where a large dark stain was growing through his jacket. He strode towards his son, pressing a hand firmly against the bleeding.

"Ow, fuck!" Dean yelled, pulled from his trance.

"What the hell happened?" John asked angrily, hand still pressed against Dean's shoulder.

"She stabbed me," Dean said simply.

"What do you mean? She was tied up when I left, still is," John said, glancing back to Kelly's body.

"It was before you left," he murmured to his father.

"What?! If I'd known I wouldn't have let you stay. Christ, Dean! You should've let me bring you to the hospital when I took those girls! What the hell's wrong with you? You could've fuckin' bled to death by now!"

"Well, I didn't," Dean murmured. But before either of them could say anything else darkness closed in on him.

* * *

The ache in his shoulder was still there but was numbed by the painkillers traveling through his bloodstream. His eyelids felt heavy but he forced his eyes open to see his brother sitting by his bed and his father in another chair on the other side of the room against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Sammy asked quietly. Dean nodded slowly, even though he wasn't okay at all. The pain in his shoulder wasn't what was bothering him; it was what Kelly had said. Even through the haze of the morphine her words were still eating away at him.

"You sure?" Sam asked, sensing that something was wrong.

"I'm fine," Dean murmured. "Drop it."

* * *

Dean closed the passenger seat door awkwardly with his left arm because his right was now in a sling. He managed to slam it shut. John turned the key in the ignition and took off out of the hospital parking lot. Once again the silence in the car was overbearing. It pressed in on their ears but none of them really wanted to break it. Finally Dean grabbed a cassette from the glove compartment and shoved it into the cassette tape slot. He turned the volume up so high they could all feel the bass line vibrating through their bodies. The drums kicked in and then after a minute or so the voice of James Hetfield met their ears:

"These are the eyes that can't see me  
These are the hands that drop your trust  
These are the boots that kick you 'round  
This is the tongue that speaks on the inside  
These are the ears that ring with hate  
This is the face that'll never change  
This is the fist that grinds you down  
This is the voice of silence no mo--" Dean slammed the eject button and threw the cassette back into the glove compartment. John looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.

_They were monsters,_ Dean thought, his jaw clenching. _I am too._ He shuddered slightly, remember Kelly's words. _"You can deny it all you want, but that doesn't stop it from being true. You're a killer… you want to fuck your brother. You're a __freak__."_ He leaned against his window, wincing slightly but ignoring the pain that shot through his arm as his shoulder was pressed hard against the door. _I deserve this and a lot worse,_ he thought bitterly.

Sam studied his brother from the passenger side mirror. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched. Sam wished he could banish all of Dean's troubles with a wave of his hand… or maybe a kiss. He smiled in spite of himself as he pictured the two of them together. But the smile slid right off his face as he noticed his father's eyes watching him from the rear view mirror. They continued in silence until they reached a motel a few hours later.

"Sam, get your brother's bag too," John ordered as he stepped out of the car and into the dimly lit motel office. Sam complied, shouldering his own backpack and carrying Dean's in one arm. He opened the door for his brother. For a second Sam thought Dean was blushing at the somewhat chivalrous manner in which he had opened the his car door for him but after a minute it was clear that Sam had only imagined it. He tried to catch Dean's eye but his brother avoided his gaze. Their father stepped out of the office and once again Sam found himself in the familiar routine of following his father and brother into a new motel room. He set the bags down by a shoddy wooden desk in the corner that looked about ready to fall apart. Within a moment John muttered another excuse to be out of the presence of his sons and walked out the door.

"H-How are you?" Sam asked quietly.

"How do you think?" Dean said coldly. Sam almost recoiled at his tone. But he reached out again nevertheless.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked, knowing that it was a long shot.

"Jesus, Sam! No. Why the hell do you always wanna talk everything out?!"

"S-Sorry," Sam muttered softly, as he stood awkwardly by the desk. He felt so frustrated not being able to help. He could see how much pain his brother was in and he couldn't do anything to stop it. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Why?" Dean asked exasperatedly.

"I'm just sorry that you had to go through…" Sam's voice trailed away, no one had told him exactly what had happened. All he knew was that the Wrights had been 'taken care of'.

"Well?" Dean said, waiting for Sam to finish his sentence. Sam looked up to see his brother's piercing eyes watching him. He shrugged.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I mean, I don't even know what happened," he paused for a moment, "But I do know it's got you all freaked out." Neither of them broke eye contact, each staring stubbornly into the other's face. Sam watched as his brother's eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. Dean finally dropped his gaze to the floor, not able to stand his brother's worried eyes on him any longer. Sam hesitantly made his way over to his brother, taking a seat next to him on the bed. Dean shot up, swiftly moving away from Sam and coming to sit on the other bed.

"Dean…" Sam murmured, despising the insecurity in his voice. Dean turned to look at his little brother, once again waiting for Sam to finish his sentence. "Dean," Sam started again. "What can I do to help?"

Dean was touched by how desperately Sam wanted to him to be happy but he could still see all those victims in his mind. He could still see the Wright siblings together in bed. He could still hear Kelly Wright's words ringing in his ears.

"What happened?" Sam asked as he watched his brother's miserable face. Dean wished right then and there he could just tell Sammy everything but he didn't know how to begin. And even if he did, he didn't want to burden his baby brother.

"Dad checked out the barn while I looked around this house that was on the property. Eric and Kelly were upstairs and I shot them," Dean said detachedly. Sam stared at his brother, shocked by the manner in which Dean had just told him that he had killed two people. Dean glanced into Sam's eyes but looked away quickly; he couldn't stand to see the surprised sadness on the younger boy's face.

"So… but what happened to your arm?" Sam asked, shifting uncomfortably on the hard bed he was sitting on.

"Um, after I shot Eric, Kelly lunged at me with a knife."

"Christ," Sam murmured under his breath.

"Yeah," Dean said. Sam looked up to see the smallest of smiles on Dean's face. His own lips twitched in response to his big brother's. But the smile faded from Dean's face within a moment and stony silence washed over the two of them. Once again Dean was struck by how much he wished he could confide in his little brother.

"You can tell me," Sam whispered, almost as if he had read Dean's mind. Dean shook his head, eyes gazing intently down at his feet.

"Dean, I won't think you're any less of a man if you talk about your feelings," Sam said half-jokingly. Dean looked up into his little brother's sweet face. Sam held his gaze, silently begging for him to drop his guard. He could see the struggle behind Dean's eyes as he debated whether or not to speak. A shadow passed over his features.

"No, Sam." He broke his eyes away from his little brother's and stood up. Before Sam could say a word he strode out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind him. Sam sat in the small motel room as the sun set, casting shadows across the room until everything was black. He curled up in the lumpy bed and drifted off to sleep, feeling utterly alone.

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_[The song, in case you couldn't guess, was "Some Kind Of Monster" by Metallica]_

_Urgh. So hard to write that, well, only because I wanted the caring-&-sharing moment. I wanted to make Dean spill his guts but I know his character wouldn't talk about it, not that soon afterwards anyway. *Glares at Kripke for making Dean the stoic, macho hero that we all know and love.* Oh, Krip, can't stay mad at you! *Huggle* …Yeah, obviously still working on that whole getting-a-life thing. ;)_

_Anyway, Comments/Reviews = Me very happy and ready to crank out more chapters. Peace, love and all that jazz.  
~aep _


	22. A Return To Normality

**22. A Return To Normality**

Sunlight streamed through his eyelids, burning orange light dimmed now by the arm over his face. Sam turned away from the light and rubbed at his tired eyes. He finally opened them to see that he was still alone in the motel room. A more attentive sweep of the area confirmed his suspicion that neither John nor Dean had come back after walking out last night. He silently reprimanded himself for wanting to cry.

_Don't be such a wuss!_ he thought angrily as he stood up to make his bed. He threw the rough, faded blankets back in place and sat down on top of them, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and aiming it fiercely at the small banged-up television set against the opposite wall. He stared blankly at the screen wondering where his father and brother were. He didn't know whether to be angry or worried. He settled for somewhere in between and sullenly flipped through the few channels the TV's rabbit ears picked up.

* * *

John Winchester entered his motel room to see his youngest child jump up from the bed on the other side of the room. "Where's Dean?" Sam asked quickly.

"Good morning to you too," John muttered in annoyance as he shut the door behind him.

"Sorry, sir, but do you know where he is?" John shook his head in reply. "But the two of you've been gone since last night. I was worr--"

"Excuse me?" John asked, clearly not too keen on the fact that his fourteen-year-old son was questioning him about his whereabouts, or that Dean had left the room without his permission for that matter. Sam fell silent but the concerned look in his eyes was still loud and clear. "I don't know where your brother is, he shouldn't have left you alone," John said, a hint of anger in his voice.

"Well, he was upset about… that whole thing with the Wrights and I-I was nagging at him --" Sam quickly began in defense of his big brother. John held up a hand for him to stop and Sam fell silent again. John shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it onto the desk in the corner. He flipped the chair tucked into the desk out and straddled it.

"There's a poltergeist about sixty miles from here, so Dean better get his ass back so we can go." John muttered, more to himself than to Sam. He turned to look at the television screen for a moment before standing up again and putting his coat back on.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

"To find him," John answered shortly as he stepped out of the room. Sam stared after his father, hoping he hadn't landed Dean in trouble.

* * *

Dean sat in the hard diner booth biting at the skin around his nails and staring into the cold cup of coffee in front of him.

"'Scuse me, sir?" the young waitress's timid voice asked. He looked up to see her standing next to him. "Can I get you anything else? Or freshen your coffee?" Her dark brown eyes studied him uneasily. Dean couldn't blame her for looking off-put by him.

He had been at the bar a few blocks away until closing time when he found himself walking around in the dark. At seven AM, when the lights in Benny's Diner flickered on and the OPEN sign was propped in the window, he made his way to the booth in the back and had been there ever since. Glancing down at his watch, he realized it was almost twelve o'clock.

"Sure, can I get a cheeseburger, uh, extra onions?" he said, finally lowering his hand from his lips. She smiled slightly and wrote it down on her pad.

"Fries with that?" she asked. He nodded and watched as she walked back to the kitchen with his order. He could hardly believe he had been sitting there for so long. Still lost in thought, he barely noticed when the waitress set his plate down in front of him.

"Thanks," he muttered as she walked away. He took a bite of the burger, not enjoying it as much as he normally would have. A moment later a shadow crossed the table, he looked up expecting to see the waitress again, but instead, saw his father glaring down at him.

* * *

Dean watched as his father was thrown across the dark room by an invisible force. "Read the damn incantation!" John yelled as he was knocked against the wall. Just as Dean reached for his father's journal, which had fallen to the floor, he felt himself being yanked off his feet as if he were in a harness. He went flying into the ceiling, hearing a sickening crack from the plaster above him.

"Kind of occupied at the moment!" Dean yelled over to his father as howling winds ran through the house, objects flying about and knocking into the two men. He flailed with all his might but was still pinned to the living room ceiling of the house that had been infected by a particularly nasty poltergeist. He could barely make out his father's voice over the roaring wind but within another moment he fell heavily to the floor, struck by the sudden silence.

He looked up to see his gasping father clutching the journal in his right hand and sporting a long cut across his forehead. Dean grabbed the hand his father offered to him and pulled himself to his feet. "There's gotta be an easier way to deal with these things," he muttered, looking around at the damage in the room. The two leather sofas had been flipped over and had deep gashes in them. All the books in the room had been tossed from their shelves and lay strewn across the large room. The large flat-screen TV that had been attached to the wall had been flung from its hinges and lay cracked against the fireplace. The walls even had a few sizeable dents in them.

John shook his head and shrugged. "Eh, could've been worse," he said nonchalantly. Dean just stared at his father in disbelief.

"You're kidding, right? I'd rather go up against another gang of werewolves than have to deal with any more poltergeists!" Dean said vehemently.

"Oh please, we did fine. And they're not all this rowdy." John said as he made his way through the mess of a living room and into the hall. Dean followed after his father.

"_Rowdy_? D-Do you really think that's a sufficient word for this particular poltergeist?" Dean asked as his father opened the front door and stepped through it. John just shook his head and smiled, making his way back to the car and getting in it. Dean pulled open the passenger side door and got in, still slightly breathless. For all his complaining, Dean felt surprisingly happy. It had been a fairly simple, straight-forward 'normal' job and they had taken care of it efficiently. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as the Impala drove off into the night.

--------------------------------------------

_Of course, tell me what y'all think. I really, really appreciate my reviewers. *huggle*_

_~aep_


	23. Release

**23. Release**

"Are you guys okay?" Sam asked as he took in the sight of his father and brother looking rather beaten up. They both nodded and smiled slightly. Sam grinned; he hadn't really seen his father smile for some time, and his brother for even longer. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed that Sam occupied and promptly began to give Sam a blow-by-blow account of their exciting fight against the poltergeist. Sam's grin grew with each word Dean uttered. The enthusiasm he exuded now was almost alien to Sam -- he hadn't seen it in so long. He loved it though.

Sam hadn't even realized it but he was now just inches from Dean, their crossed legs almost touching. He glanced over to their father, whose smile had disappeared. Sam surreptitiously pushed himself back away from his brother. Dean watched as his little brother inched away from him, the glee he had felt seconds before escaping from him like air out of a balloon. He bit his lip, wanting desperately to break the silence that had settled in the room but not knowing how.

* * *

In the weak moonlight that filtered in through the dirty window Sam watched his father's form in bed: his chest rising and falling and his dark hair and stubble reminding Sam of a bear. His gaze lowered to the place between the beds where Dean was sleeping. The blanket rested around his waist and his shirt was rumpled up in such a way that Sam caught a glimpse of the smooth skin of Dean's toned stomach.

Sam's eyes slowly drifted up until he had reached Dean's face. Once again he was struck by those long thick eyelashes that framed his lovely hazel eyes, that straight nose and those soft, full lips…. Sam slammed his eyes shut, feeling guilty for admiring his brother's beauty. He turned away and slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Soft, yellow light shined through Dean's eyelids, slowly pulling him from his dream. He silently cursed the sunrise; he wished he could stay in his dream for just a while longer. He wanted to stay in that warm, safe place where his thoughts were allowed to wander, where he could imagine his arms around his sweet baby brother, and where their father couldn't walk in on them. He sighed and opened his eyes as the sunlight began to brighten the whole room.

He sat up, his eyes lingering on his little brother. It seemed with each passing day he grew a little taller, came a little closer to manhood. Dean bit back the smile that wanted play on his face as he couldn't help but think about Sam's beautiful body. The usual guilt settled over him for having such thoughts but it wasn't quite as suffocating as usual, and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He continued to stare at his brother intently, secretly cursing the blanket that covered his form.

Dean heard movement from the other bed and looked over to see his father sitting up, rubbing his eyes and sighing. John opened his eyes and saw his eldest son raise a hand in way of a morning greeting. He nodded and grunted quietly, looking over to see Sammy still curled up in bed, asleep.

Dean glanced over at his brother again, careful not to let his gaze linger for too long. He stood up, grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel bag and walked into the bathroom. He shut the door with a snap, leaning against it for a moment and taking a deep breath. He pulled his shirt off and slipped out of his pants and boxers, throwing them all to the floor as he stepped into the grimy shower. He turned it on, shuddering as cold water sprayed him, but after a moment the water heated up. It kissed his skin and slowly slid down his body, his eyes fluttered closed as he let his head fall directly under the stream of water.

Dean reached down and grabbed a new bar of soap, unwrapping and wetting it. The suds bubbled up in his hands. He placed the bar on the edge of the tub and ran his soapy hands over his shoulders and chest. He sighed deeply, picturing Sammy's hands traveling his body instead of his own.

He felt his heartbeat quicken slightly and his blood rush lower through his body, making him stiffen. A pang of guilt hit him but he dismissed it. He let his hands slide down his chest and stomach, still imagining it was Sam who was touching him. His fingertips lightly moved down his length coming to rest at his tip. He shuddered and stifled a moan. Biting his lip, he let his fingers explore, once again holding back a moan. He was painfully hard now and needed a release. His hand closed around his cock and slowly began pumping, gaining speed as the minutes passed. He let his free hand rest against the shower wall in front of him, supporting his weight as he felt himself grow weak in the knees. A few more strokes and he came hard. Pleasure rippled through his body, washing over him in waves.

Gasping for breath, he leaned against the shower wall, allowing himself to slide down it. Dean's heart resumed its normal pace as the blissful pleasure subsided, replaced once again by shame and guilt. Part of him hated himself for what he had just done and the other part just hated the fact that he couldn't seem to allow himself to be happy. He knew what he was doing was wrong but he also knew it wasn't hurting anyone. He wish his conscience would just leave him be. He stood, washing the rest of his body as the water began to grow colder. He shut it off and stepped out of the shower, running a rough towel over himself.

Dean bent down to grab a fresh pair of boxers from the pile of clean clothes only to find that he must have dropped it on the way to the bathroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door. Sure enough, the boxers were lying in the middle of the floor. He made his way across the room to grab them. As he straightened up he realized that his little brother was now awake and watching him intently. Dean felt his cheeks flush and he walked back to the bathroom with the underwear clasped tightly in his hand.

Sam watched as his brother's cheeks grew red and he felt his own heat up. He looked at his father out of the corner of his eye, thankful to see that John hadn't noticed the awkward moment that had passed between his sons. Sam closed his eyes, trying to capture the image of his brother from a moment ago: lightly tanned muscles glistening with beads of water, those slim hips hugged by a towel…. Sam smiled in spite of himself and laid back in bed, arms behind his head and eyes closed.

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_Ah, yes, the compulsory solo shower scene… had to do it eventually. It's the first time I've written anything like that. *blushes* Anyway -- Reviews/Comments = Updates & A happy heart. :D  
~aep _


	24. Same Old Story

**24. Same Old Story**

Dean stepped out of the bathroom (now fully clothed) and looked around. "Where's Dad?" he asked his little brother.

"He's gone to meet up with a contact of Pastor Jim's about some case. He said he'd be a day or two." Sam informed him. Dean nodded and sat down on the other bed. He ran his fingers through his wet hair. Sam was enthralled by those fingers, he tried not to stare but he couldn't help it. Dean looked over to see his little brother staring at him once again. Sam's cheeks reddened and he looked away quickly. He felt like such an idiot mooning over Dean.

"God, I want to kiss you," Sam groaned quietly. He clasped a hand over his mouth, barely believing that he had just blurted that out loud. Dean turned to look at him again. Sam refused to meet his gaze, his cheeks blazing at this point.

"Come over here," Dean whispered. Sam chanced a glance at his brother now. Dean nodded and held a hand out to his brother. Sam could barely believe his eyes at such a romantic gesture. A smile spread across his lips as he stood up from his bed and took Dean's hand.

Dean gripped his little brother's hand tightly and pulled him onto the bed playfully. The two of them lay looking at each other. Dean's finger traced the gentle curve of Sam's smiling lips. Sam kissed his finger softly. Dean let his finger move down, gently pulling at Sam's bottom lip. Sam's smile widened as he took Dean's finger into his mouth. He let his tongue dance around Dean's finger, teasing him. Dean licked his own lips as he watched his little brother. He looked so at peace, eyes closed, just at hint of a smile…. Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to Sammy's forehead.

Dean withdrew his finger from Sam's mouth. He lifted Sam's chin slightly and brushed his lips against the younger man's. Sam felt a shiver run through him as their lips connected. Dean sighed sadly, his breath tickling Sam's lips.

"Sammy, we can't go any farther. We've already gone way too far," Dean whispered. Despite his words, Dean found himself kissing Sam again. After a moment Sam broke away, eyes glistening brightly with tears.

"I-I know. And part of me is screaming for us to stop but then there's this other part of me…" Sam muttered. He looked into Dean's eyes to see them shining brightly too. He watched as a single tear leaked down the side of Dean's face. Dean bit his lip and nodded.

"Same old story. That's how I've been feeling for a long time now. I want you and I fucking hate myself for it. And I try not to but it doesn't work. I'm so tired of trying to be the responsible one, es-especially when I'm failing so miserably," Dean murmured. His throat was constricted in his effort not to cry. Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Dean's chest. He wished that just lying there against Dean was enough but he wanted more. He felt sickened by the thoughts and desires flowing through him. He bit his lip hard, trying to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape his lips. He placed an arm around Dean, holding him closer, breathing him in.

Dean winced slightly. "What's wrong?" Sam asked nervously, lifting his head from Dean's chest.

"My shoulder…"

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put pressure on it." Sam apologized, feeling miserable. Dean shook his head.

"It's okay, I'm fine." Sam leaned back against his brother's chest, this time placing his arm around his waist gently.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. Only this time he wasn't talking about Dean's shoulder. He felt so horrible for wanting his big brother this way. He had always adored and looked up to him but over the last few years his feelings had changed. Sam hadn't really allowed himself to acknowledge it until it became so overwhelming that it was all he could think about. In his fantasies everything was so simple; they loved each other, they could hold each other, kiss each other. But now, everything had gotten so out of hand. And the reality of the situation was that they could never be lovers. It was wrong, perverse but they still wanted one another so badly that they couldn't fight it.

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_This chapter is fairly short compared to some of the others but tell me what you think anyway. :) I'll have more soon. I'm on a roll. I have like 20 pages ready to go. :D  
~aep _


	25. Halloween

**25. Halloween**

It felt so good to hold his little brother close to him, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel like some kind of monster -- A child molester, a freak who was committing incest. He wondered if what they had done was enough to ruin Sam, to turn him into some confused, broken child.

_"Is it so shocking that one human being could hurt another?"_ Kelly had asked him.

_"No, but what you and your brother did is so far beyond that."_ Dean suddenly felt like what he had said to her, he should have been saying to himself. What he was doing to his baby brother was so far beyond healthy or normal. He was terrified that one day it would go too far -- that all their resolve would crumble.

_Sam, God, he's so young and innocent. And here I am, taking complete advantage of him,_ he thought to himself. He felt almost sick to his stomach, and even though some twisted part of him wanted, _needed_ Sam, he could barely handle the thought of what could happen… what had already happened.

Dean slowly pulled away from his little brother, carefully removing Sammy's arm from his waist. Sam wanted to protest but he didn't. And somewhere inside of him he almost felt relieved that Dean had left him lying alone in the bed. Dean's action had removed the immediate 'danger' -- the temptation. He watched as Dean gingerly sat down on the opposite bed. The moment of relief Sam had felt dissipated and now all that was left was the yearning hunger he felt so often. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his pillow.

Dean watched sadly as his little brother turned to lie on his stomach, head lost inside a pillow. Dean could see the silent sobs that were racking Sammy's body. He felt a pang of shame as his eyes traveled down that body: Sam's long, soft hair, the shoulders that were slowly becoming broader as he grew, the curve of his back, and those long legs. Dean slammed his eyes shut, but it was no use, the image of his brother's body was emblazoned in his mind. And what was worse, so much worse, was the things he could see himself doing to that body.

_"Pretty? __Fuckable__? … You can't think of anything else besides that baby brother of yours, can you? Have you fucked him yet? Or do you just want to?"_ The vicious words that Kelly had whispered silkily to him hurt all the more because of just how true they were. _"Bottom line: you're just like us. Sick thoughts stuffed in that pretty little head of yours…"_

Her voice and everything that she had said to him pounded painfully loud in his ears. _"You can deny it all you want, but that doesn't stop it from being true. … You want to fuck your brother. I mean, come on, you're a __freak__._

He cradled his head in his hands, desperately wishing he could quiet the cruel voice sounding in his head. A tear spilled from his eye, landing on his knee sinking into the fabric of his jeans.

"Goddammit," Dean whispered. Even with Sam's head buried in the pillow, he heard his brother curse. He could hear the pain, anger, confusion in his voice, could feel the same emotions in himself. He wanted to stand up and wrap his arms around his big brother and to tell him it was going to be okay, he wanted to tell himself it would be okay. But he didn't see how it would be. His pillow was now soggy from the salty tears he had poured into it. He heard movement and then the door open and close. Sam looked up, finding himself all alone in a cheap motel room again.

* * *

Dean glanced at the newspaper as he stood in line at the convenience store, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. _WRIGHT SIBLINGS FOUND DEAD, KILLED BY VIGILANTE_ His heart pounded in his chest but he knew there was no evidence that could lead it back to him. He grabbed a copy of the paper and tossed it onto the counter, quickly paying for it and the alcohol.

Dean made his way back to the motel, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle as he walked. The large neon sign of the motel loomed ahead. Dean fished the key out of his jeans pocket as he walked into the parking lot.

Sam bolted upright as the door opened to see his brother enter the room. Dean nodded as way of greeting and came to sit on the other bed, taking another swig of whiskey. Sam eyed the bottle wearily, wishing that his brother wouldn't take his miseries out on alcohol. Dean noticed the look on his brother's face but ignored it, turning on the lamp between the beds and studying the front page of the newspaper. He threw it down on the bed and lied down on his elbows to read it.

"What's that?" Sam asked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the headline. "Oh shit! They don't know it was you, do they?"

"Don't think so. But I guess I'll find out," Dean muttered as his eyes flew across the page. He finished the article within a few minutes. "No, they have no idea," Dean informed his little brother who gave a sigh of relief. Dean smiled slightly at just how sweet Sammy was. He quickly hid his smile, hating himself for admiring his brother in ways he shouldn't.

"Dean, can we go get something to eat?" Sam asked sheepishly. Dean nodded curtly, folding the paper up and tossing it aside.

"I saw a diner when I was walking," Dean said. "Wanna go there?"

"Sure." Sam nodded. The two of them stood. Dean checked his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there, it was.

"Alright, let's go," Dean said, holding the door open for his little brother and then locking it behind them.

Dean took a bite of his burger, watching his little brother intently. Sam avoided his gaze, picking at his salad and sighing.

"You okay?" Dean asked gruffly. Sam looked up and nodded slowly. They finished their meal in silence and walked back to the motel as the sun was setting, golden leaves crunching beneath their feet. Little children in costumes were milling around excitedly with their parents.

"God, I didn't even realize it was Halloween," Sam muttered. Dean nodded in agreement. The two of them found themselves envying those children's innocence, completely oblivious to the very real supernatural forces around them. Dean unlocked the door and followed his brother into the room. They each took a seat on a bed, Dean grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. They both stared at the screen, not really taking in the images or sounds that came from it.

A pang of bitterness hit Sam as he thought of those children outside and how they led normal lives with their families: average, even dull lives -- living in one place, with both parents, never having to know about the evil in the world. Of course he knew that every family came with its own set of problems but he couldn't help but think that they couldn't compare to his family's dysfunction. He glanced over to his brother who was also lost in thought.

Dean slid a hand down over his face, emotionally exhausted. He couldn't believe how out of hand his life had become. Ever since he had first acted on his desires towards his brother, and then the Wrights… he felt as though they were practically a slap in the face, a warning of what he could become. He shuddered at the thought. He wanted to believe that he could never go as far as they had: committing sick, depraved acts -- incest, murder.

_No,_ he thought, _You'll never be like them. You're not a murderer. You kill monsters, creatures that are asking for it. And yeah, the Wrights were human, but their behavior didn't set them too far apart from demons._ But as for Kelly and Eric's relationship… Dean wasn't sure if he'd always be strong enough to resist things going any further. Each time he looked at Sam all he could really think about was kissing him, touching him. Shame flooded through his body like a fever. He could feel his little brother's eyes on him which only made him feel worse.

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_Warning: The next chapter is going to be graphic and just pretty fucked up... You'll see what I mean._

_Anyway, COMMENTS!  
~aep _


	26. Lifeless

**26. Lifeless**

Sweat beaded on their skin, glistening in the pale light that filtered in through the curtains. The ragged breathing that made their entire bodies shake was the only sound in the room. Dean held his brother tightly against him, wanting desperately to feel Sammy's soft skin against his own.

"I love you," Dean whispered in a surprisingly tender tone. Sam brushed his lips against his big brother's cheek, slowly moving towards his mouth.

"I love you too," Sam whispered against Dean's lips.

"Aw, how sweet!" Kelly's sarcastic voice pierced the calm. Dean released his brother and sat bolt upright, staring into Kelly's malicious eyes as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"You can't be here," Dean said, fury and shock flowing through him at her sudden appearance.

"And yet here I am," she said with a smile. She stood up and made her way over to the side of the bed where Sam lay frozen. "He is a pretty little thing," Kelly whispered as she caressed his cheek.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" Dean yelled, quickly standing and pushing Kelly away from his little brother.

"Oh, that's right. You're the only one allowed to do that," she said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. She glanced over Dean's shoulder to the bed. Dean spun around to see Eric kneeling on the bed over Sammy. He had a shard of glass in his hand and was running it slowly over Sam's naked body. Sam lay perfectly still, as though an invisible force had frozen him in time. The shard moved smoothly over Sam's chest, barely touching it.

As the piece of glass traveled lower Eric pressed down harder until crimson droplets bubbled up in a line down Sam's chest. Dean stared in horror, transfixed for a moment then he leapt at Eric, wrestling him off of his baby brother. Eric kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him off the bed. Dean couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He watched helpless as Eric dragged the glass down Sam's chest again, creating another red line on his pale skin. Eric was gripping the shard so tightly his own blood could be seen pooling in the crevices of his hand and under his fingernails. He drew the shard up around Sam's face, letting it caress Sam's eyelids.

Dean finally caught his breath and made to get up but couldn't. Ropes had been wrapped around him, tying him down to the legs of the other motel bed. He struggled against them but couldn't break free. He glared up into Kelly's face who was swinging an extra length of rope in her left hand. Dean continued to struggle against the ropes that bound him. He watched, his heart leaping up into his throat as the shard of glass traveled down Sammy's jawline, moving further down, hovering over his Adam's apple. As if in slow motion the shard moved up through the air and then shot down, imbedding itself in Sam's neck.

"NO!" Dean yelled fighting furiously to escape the ropes and get to his brother. A sickening gurgling sound issued from Sam's throat as blood trickled down and soaked the bed sheets beneath him. Eric pulled the shard out, letting the blood gush freely. Kelly laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, an understanding expression on her face.

"Dean, please, calm down. You know it's better this way. Destroyed by a monster, not his own brother. You knew if you let it continue it would ruin him -- ruin you both. This is better," she whispered softly in his ear.

"No," Dean whispered. He continued to watch as the life was drained from Sammy's body. He was growing whiter by the second as the once-blue sheets turned completely red. "No. Sam. S-Sammy!" The words could barely escape his throat as the room blurred from the tears in his eyes.

"Oh, you poor thing," Kelly purred, leaning down to untie Dean. "Alright, go hold your brother one last time."

Dean ran over to his brother, wrapping him in his arms. He could feel the faintest of heartbeats resounding in Sam's chest but after a moment it faded completely and Dean sat clutching his brother's lifeless body. "No, come back to me," he whispered into Sam's ear. "_Please_," he sobbed, gripping Sam's fragile body closer to him. He felt a hand come to rest on his quivering shoulder. His father stood behind him. Kelly and Eric had disappeared.

"Dean! What did you do?!" John asked in horror.

"What? I didn't -- Eric --" Dean stuttered. John ripped Sam away from Dean and cradled his youngest son in his arms like he had done when Sam was a baby. Dean looked down at his hands; his whole body was covered in Sammy's blood. Tiny pools of the scarlet liquid had gathered in his cupped palms. In the center of his right hand was the shard of glass. He dropped it quickly, staring at it as it glinted in the light. He looked back at his hand where he could now see that Sammy's wasn't the only blood on his hands. His own blood glistened from cuts on his palm. A dawning realization -- Eric and Kelly had never been there, had never hurt his brother. He had. He had murdered his baby brother, his love.

"NO!" Dean yelled as shot up in bed, looking at his hands -- perfectly clean and uncut.

"Dean, what happened? Are you okay?" Sammy asked, concern etched on his face as he watched his brother from the other bed. Dean stuttered incoherently as he stood up and ran out of the room.

Dean ran behind the building. Hidden in the shadows, he covered his mouth with both hands and sank down to the pavement. He couldn't stop sobbing; terrible aching sobs that he felt lost inside of, unable to breathe. The dream had felt so real. And as he replayed it in his head it was no longer Eric that was cutting into Sam's soft skin. Dean saw himself straddling his little brother, dragging the glass shard down his chest. He could see the look of frozen horror on his baby brother's face as he continued to slice his skin.

_Oh my God. What the fuck is wrong with me?_ he thought, feeling terrified of himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He sat there, huddled, until sky began to brighten hours later.

He slowly stood up, his legs shaking beneath him. He couldn't go back inside. The nightmare had been too powerful to ignore. He didn't think he could ever hurt Sammy that way, and yet he never thought he could have a dream as sick and dark as that either. Dean felt like he couldn't trust himself. He leaned against the wall just in time as his legs gave out from underneath him. The tears that had dried on his face were replaced now by fresh ones. He rubbed furiously at his eyes. He didn't know what to do. He sure as hell couldn't talk to someone like Tara about his dream. He could never tell anyone. It was all too deranged… too evil.

_Is that what I am? Evil?_ he thought. He wanted to dismiss that question but he couldn't. He felt it churning in his stomach, making him sick. He wondered if Kelly and Eric had gotten their start dreaming up atrocities as well. He tried to quell this thought, afraid of the answer. He slid back down the wall, palms pressed hard against his eyes, the pressure making him see bursts of color.

"Dean," a timid voice by his side spoke. Dean looked up to see his little brother watching him worriedly. He stood back up and willed his legs to work as he set off away from Sammy. "Dean!" Sam called out, following after him.

"Leave me the hell alone, Sam," he warned moodily, walking faster.

"W-What did I do?" The hurt in Sam's voice was too much for Dean to take.

"You didn't do anything. J-Just leave me alone." It was as much a demand as it was a plea.

"What's going on?!" Sam asked, catching up to his big brother and grabbing his arm. Dean yanked his arm out of his little brother's grasp and kept walking. "Dean -- what --?" Once again Sammy ran to catch up to his brother, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. Dean tried to jerk out of Sam's grip but he was holding on too tightly this time.

"_What's going on?_" Dean mimicked cruelly. Sam seemed taken aback by the childish but harsh behavior his big brother was exhibiting. "You wanna know what's going on? Do you? Do you really?" Dean asked, his voice rising with each word. Sam nodded resolutely.

"Your big brother -- the one you look up to for some unknown reason -- he's lost it. He's being haunted by the people he killed. They're whispering in his ear -- in my ear."

Sam stared into the face of his older brother. He had been frightened by supernatural forces and things that went bump in the night, frightened even by his father's temper, but he had never been scared of Dean -- until now. His eyes were wild and his mouth was set in an insane sneer; the normally beautiful face now contorted with rage.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Dean whispered each word slowly and separately. Sam obliged, staring after his brother as he stalked off into the rising sun. He could still picture the burning in his big brother's eyes, something that almost resembled insanity. Sam continued to stare after the shrinking figure until he could no longer see him at all.

Sam trudged back to the motel room, lost in thought and still shocked by the way his brother was acting. He was worried but he felt powerless to help. And clearly, Dean didn't want his help. He sighed and sunk down onto the bed Dean had been in until he had stormed off in the middle of the night. He laid down and pulled the blanket over him, wishing Dean hadn't run off.

* * *

Dean shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked briskly through side streets, turning left and right at random, almost willing himself to get lost. Before he realized it, the sun had begun to go down. He knew he couldn't avoid going back forever. He supposed he could walk by and if the Impala was in the parking lot he could go back to the room, feeling that Sam would be safe if John was there. It was a terrifying thought: that Sam had to be protected from Dean, instead of Dean protecting him the way he had always done. He felt his eyes sting but forced himself not to cry.

Sure enough, as he drew closer to the motel he could see his father's black car parked out front. He bit his lip and walked purposefully towards the motel room. He grunted a greeting as he closed the door behind him. Sam jumped to his feet, not speaking but his eyes questioned Dean silently. Dean avoided his brother's gaze and turned to look at his father.

"So, do we have a new case yet?" he asked, feebly attempting to sound as though he were simply curious and not desperate to keep his brother from out-right asking him what had happened earlier.

"Yeah, actually. It's a few state lines over. Jim thinks it's a banshee." Sam perked up at this.

"But I thought banshees were just death omens? They can't do any actual damage themselves, can they?" he asked.

"As a rule, you're right. But there have been a few cases where a banshee will go further than just warning about a death in the family," John said mysteriously.

"What does it do?" Dean asked, relieved that the topic seemed to be holding his little brother's interest.

"Massacres the entire family," John said simply. Sam gaped at his father, while hunting had become second nature to them all, he had rarely ever heard his father sound so nonchalant and detached about such a dangerous creature. "Come on, get your stuff. We're going."

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_Wow. Anyway... long chapter. And yeah... so, uh, tell me what you think. I'll have more up soon. :)_

_~aep _


	27. A Blaze

**27. A Blaze**

"Dean, stay in the car with your brother!" John said hurriedly as he opened his car door and ran out. Sam and Dean watched as their father ran into the light blue house, ushering a family of four out of it quickly. They ran past the wailing figure in the yard and reached the family van.

"Get in! Drive to…" but the rest of their father's words were drowned out by the unearthly shrieks emanating from the tall, skeletally-thin figure. She had long, tangled black hair that fell down past her feet. Her arms were spread wide, a sickly green tint to her skin which was even more noticeable against the stark white gown she wore. Sam and Dean watched as the figure slowly revolved, coming to face them, the howling growing louder and louder. Her eyes were sunken orbs in her face, her skin was so taut that it seemed as though her cheekbones were about to rip right through it like tissue paper. Her mouth was open, an exaggerated 'o' with rows of sharp teeth set behind her pale lips.

Although her eyes were a milky gray, giving the impression of blindness, she seemed to be staring directly at Sam, slowly gliding closer to the Impala. Dean locked the doors and grabbed his brother tightly to him. His earlier thoughts of needing someone to protect Sam from him had disappeared, replaced now by the primal urge that had been instilled in him since he was four to protect his baby brother, his Sammy. Their father rushed back to them, quickly unlocking his car door and getting inside. He shoved the key in the ignition and took off, leaving the wailing figure in the dust.

"She's gonna come back for us, isn't she?" Sam asked knowingly. John nodded, glancing in the rearview mirror and speeding up slightly.

"She'll be back, but not until tomorrow night. Banshees can only manifest when the sun's gone down," John explained quickly.

* * *

As the sun began to set Dean nervously checked the lines of salt at each window. He quickly checked the door as well, bolting it shut and bending down to smooth a few grains of salt back into the thick line.

"Dad'll be back by morning. He's watching that family," Dean muttered to his little brother.

"Yeah, I know. I heard you two talking earlier," Sam muttered from where he sat cross-legged on the bed in their new motel room. "Dean?"

Dean's whole body tensed at the way his brother said his name. He knew Sam too well not to know what was coming next.

"Yesterday morning… the Wrights. You said they were haunting y--"

"No, they're not. I just had a nightmare and was freaking out," Dean explained quickly.

"Must've been some nightmare," Sam murmured softly. Dean nodded grudgingly. "Do you w--"

"If the next words out of your mouth are _'do you wanna talk about it?'_ let me stop you right there. No. I don't want to talk about it. Or about anything right now actually." Dean said, rather unkindly.

"Sorry," Sam said with such sincerity that Dean immediately felt horrible for being so blunt.

"I'm sorry too," he muttered back as he took a seat on the opposite bed. He looked up into Sammy's pretty hazel eyes. The image of his little brother's bloody, naked body flared in his mind and he quickly looked away again.

"What was that?" Sam asked, confused by the sudden coldness in Dean's features. One moment he had seemed sweet and apologetic and the next angry and hardened.

"What?" Dean snapped, still looking anywhere but at Sam.

"What's with you? You change completely from one second to the next."

"I don't know," Dean shrugged impatiently, glancing at the lines of protective salt around the room.

Sam wished Dean would just look him in the eye instead of casting furtive glances everywhere else. He wished Dean would open up, talk about whatever it was that was upsetting him so much. He couldn't understand how his big brother could keep it all bottled up. He studied Dean for a few moments then moodily pulled at the blanket and curled up under it.

Dean watched his brother's sleeping form in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He couldn't allow himself to sleep, partly because there was still a renegade banshee somewhere out there but also because he was terrified that if he fell asleep he would dream of hurting Sammy again. He could barely stomach the thought. He rubbed at his eyes and paced the room slowly.

It was three o'clock and there was still no sign of their father. Dean ran a hand over his face, completely exhausted. He could barely see straight anymore. He knew that if he didn't lie down soon he would probably fall over. He took a seat at the edge of the bed, trying to remain straight-backed and alert. But before long he had slumped against the large pillow by his side and fallen asleep.

* * *

Sam stared at his brother, his heart pounding in his chest. Dean fired a shot into a young woman's chest, his eyes blazing with cold fury and hatred.

"I'm not a freak," Dean whispered to Sammy. "I won't let this go on." Blood pooled at their feet, seeping into their shoes. Sam watched as his brother lodged another bullet in the girl's chest.

"Stop," Sam pleaded.

"That's what I'm doing -- putting a stop to this." Dean said calmly and evenly as the blood at their feet began to rise until it lapped at their knees. Sam's heart began to pound as he tried to reach his brother but he couldn't wade through the blood that continued to rise. By the time he had managed to grab hold of his brother's arm the blood had reached his chin. He clutched tightly at Dean. He felt his big brother pry his fingers away from him. Sam reached out again but the crimson liquid that surrounded them washed him away from Dean.

He felt himself go under. He tried to stand but his feet couldn't reach the bottom any longer. "Dean!" he tried to cry out. Blood rushed into his open mouth and began to fill his lungs.

Dean jerked awake, glancing at the digital alarm clock under the lamp that read 4:37 in red numbers. He gave a sigh of relief, his sleep had been blissfully dreamless. He turned to look at his brother who was writhing and whimpering in his sleep. Dean walked over to him and tried to shake him awake.

"Sammy, it's okay, you're just having a nightmare. Come on, wake up." Sam's eyes popped open and he gasped for breath. "Are you okay?" Dean asked. Sam gulped and nodded. "You sure?" Sam nodded again. He almost gagged, he could still taste the blood in his mouth as if it had been real.

* * *

The banshee glided across the grassy field towards John. Her tattered white dress, illuminated by moonlight, flowed out behind her as though she were underwater. Her screeching cry grew louder and louder, John could feel the warm trickle of blood issuing from his ears. Her hands were outstretched, as if to embrace him but the talon-like nails seemed to indicate otherwise. He squeezed the golden knife Pastor Jim's contact had given him in his hand, feeling the swirling Celtic designs on the handle press into his palm. He bit his lip and charged at her, silently praying that it would work.

John could feel her claws sink into his flesh but it hurt no more than his pounding ears. He thrust the knife deep into her chest. He pulled it out and backed away, watching as black liquid oozed from the wound, staining the brilliantly white dress. The wailing ceased and she crumpled into the tall grass. He stepped towards the fallen banshee.

A flash of light, the long black hair shot into the air and ignited in brilliant blue-green flames. John shut his eyes against the blinding light of the fire. Green blazed through his eyelids for a moment and then blackness. He opened his eyes again, all traces of the banshee were gone, all except the scorched circle of grass where the flames had sprung up to consume the entity. He took a deep breath and walked back to the car. He got inside and sped off, leaving clouds of dust in his wake. Once again, John Winchester left the scene of his hunt, an anonymous hero.

--------------------------------------------

_More sketchy dreams, although even though poor Sammy's drowning in a sea of blood it doesn't seem as bad to me as Dean's dream. *shrug* Anyway, tell me what you think!_

_Also, (sadly) the updates will be more sporadic seeing as camp starts tomorrow. Musical Theater camp... 'cause I'm a geek like that. Wish me luck -- I suck at dancing. lol. But not to worry, updates will still be coming -- just at a slower pace._

_~aep _


	28. The New Kid

**28. The New Kid**

"Sammy, come on, you look like crap. What's wr--?"

"It's not even five a.m. I'm allowed to look like crap! And I'm fine," Sam insisted. "Besides, it's not like you ever tell me what's going on, so why should I tell you?" He knew he sounded childish but he didn't care. He glared defiantly at Dean.

"Whatever," Dean muttered as he walked back over to his own bed. Sam felt stupid for half-hoping that Dean would have tried harder to find out what was wrong.

A moment later the two of them heard footsteps close outside and the jangling of keys. Dean pushed back the window curtain, careful to make sure the line of salt on the sill remained intact. He went over to the door and opened it for their father.

"The dagger worked," John told his sons as he walked inside the room.

"So it's gone?" Sam asked. His father nodded. "Good," he murmured half-heartedly. John gave him a quizzical look; earlier he had been so fascinated by the prospect of fighting a banshee.

"Sammy here had a wittle nightmare," Dean filled his father in.

"Shut up," Sam mumbled angrily.

"Knock it off," John told his sons before they had even started arguing. "Get to bed. We're leaving in a few hours."

* * *

Sam and Dean sat under the fluorescent lights in the school's main office as their father spoke to the principal about enrolling them.

"I can't believe Dad's making me go to school," Dean sulked.

"I think it's kinda nice --"

"Yeah, you would. Little geek," Dean muttered.

"I think it's kinda nice," Sam began again, "that we're going to be in one place long enough to actually attend school. Lately the jobs have been so quick it's been making my head spin." Dean rolled his eyes but didn't exactly speak up to disagree.

A girl with long, wavy blond hair walked into the office. "Hi, Mrs. Adams wanted me to drop this off for her," she told the secretary sweetly as she handed her a yellow folder. She turned to walk away but stopped in her tracks as she spotted Dean.

"Hi. Are you new here?" she asked him, completely ignoring Sam.

"Uh, yeah. My dad's enrolling us now. I'm Dean, this is Sam," he gestured towards his little brother.

"Great. Well, I hope I see you around. I'm Andrea Martins." She smiled and walked out of the office. Sam rolled his eyes.

"What?" Dean asked at the look on Sam's face.

"I don't think she liked you," Sam whispered sarcastically.

"What are you, jealous?" Dean asked with a smile. Sam glanced up at his brother awkwardly. "I didn't mean jealous like..."

"Yeah, I know," Sam muttered just as the principal's door opened and John appeared.

"Great. Thank you," John said as he shook hands with the principal. "Okay, you two go across the hall to guidance --"

"He started it, I swear!" Dean joked.

"To organize your schedules," John finished as though his son hadn't interrupted him.

"Yes sir," Sam and Dean said, rising from their seats and exiting the office behind their father.

"I'll be back to pick you up at three," John said. Sam and Dean nodded and watched as their father left the school building.

* * *

"She really doesn't like you," Sam muttered as he walked out of the guidance counselor's office with his schedule in his hand.

"Yeah, well the feeling's mutual," Dean said, glowering down at his own schedule.

"Come on, let's get to class," Sam said with a small smile on his face. They parted ways, Dean heading upstairs for Chemistry and Sam going down the hall to the music room. He knocked on door 126. It swung open a moment later to reveal a class of lethargic students and a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman with premature gray hair that flew in all different directions.

"And who might you be?" she asked kindly. He handed her the note that the guidance counselor had written. "Welcome! I'm Mrs. Schaeffer," she said with a large grin as she ushered him into the room. "Class, this is Samuel Winchester. He's new to our school. Alright, Samuel --"

"It's Sam," he muttered, feeling his cheeks redden as the students looked him over.

"Thanks for telling me," she said earnestly. "Okay, take a seat. You're just in time for the next song." She walked over to a large stereo system and placed a CD in the slot, pausing it so she could speak.

"Alright guys, this is a jazz standard, a personal favorite of mine," she began as Sam found a free seat in the back of the room, "by Duke Ellington and Paul Francis Webster. Now this version is sung by Ella Fitzgerald but if you like it I suggest you do a little research because there are about a hundred different singers who have covered this." She pressed a button and a piano began playing, followed by a powerful yet beautiful voice.

"The poets say that all who love are blind;  
But I'm in love and I know what time it is!  
The Good Book says 'Go seek and ye shall find.'  
Well, I have sought and my what a climb it is!  
My life is just like the weather  
It changes with the hours;  
When he's near I'm fair and warmer  
When he's gone I'm cloudy with showers  
In emotion, like the ocean it's either sink or swim  
When a woman loves a man like I love him.

Never treats me sweet and gentle the way he should  
I got it bad and that ain't good  
My poor heart is sentimental, not made of wood  
I got it bad and that ain't good  
But when the weekend's over and Monday rolls around  
I end up like I start out – just cryin' my heart out

He don't love me like I love him, nobody could  
I got it bad and that ain't good  
Like a lonely weeping willow lost in the wood  
I got it bad and that ain't good!  
And the things I tell my pillow no woman should  
I got it bad and that ain't good!  
Though folks with good intentions tell me to save my tears  
I'm glad I'm mad about him I can't live without him  
Lord above me make him love me the way he should  
I got it bad and that ain't good."

The track ended and Mrs. Schaeffer ejected the disc. "Alright, what did you guys think? Could anybody relate to the singer's situation?" Sam bit his lip, thankful that he was sitting at the back of the class. A girl in the front raised her hand. The teacher nodded for her to speak.

"Well, it kinda just sounds like a bunch of the other jazz pieces you've made us listen to," she said bluntly.

"Hm. Well, I suppose in a way you're right -- jazz, the blues, often discusses broken hearts and hopeless love. But each song has its own life. Let's talk about some of the imagery. Yes, Tina," she gestured to a brunette seated in the center of the room.

"Um, uh, she compares her love for him to the weather. Like when he's away it's cloudy but when he's around it's warm and stuff…" Tina muttered awkwardly.

"You're absolutely right," Mrs. Schaeffer said. "It conjures up strong contrasting images. Any other thoughts?" Sam felt himself blush as her eyes passed over him. "How about you, Sam?" she asked. _Oh no,_ he thought miserably to himself.

"I-I don't know. She seems to have a lot of conflicting emotions. I mean talking about sinking or swimming and, um, even though she says that loving him so much is bad she also says that she's glad that she does and she just prays that he could love her back."

"Very good observation, Sam," Mrs. Schaeffer smiled appreciatively as Sam sunk down in his seat, trying to disappear. He could feel half the class's eyes on him and he didn't think he could feel any more uncomfortable than he did at that moment. He tried to focus as Mrs. Schaeffer began discussing the next song she was going to play for the class but his mind wandered back to "I've Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good)".

* * *

"Did you hear all the crap he was saying? New kid's a total fag," Sam heard one of the boys say in the hall as he made his way to his next class.

Though he was distracted -- he couldn't really get his mind off that song for the rest of the day -- the teachers seemed to like him. English and Algebra passed uneventfully and then suddenly it was 2:30 and the final bell had rung. Sam made his way through the jostling crowds in the halls to outside where the buses were waiting. The school grounds quickly filled with hundreds of students milling around, chattering excitedly and yelling at one another. Sam took a seat under a small tree on the grounds, his eyes scanning the crowd for his brother. Just as he spotted Dean, a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see the boy that he had heard in the hall standing before him, flanked by two more boys.

"Uh, hi," Sam said, squinting up into their thuggish faces.

"You're the new kid," the boy in the middle said. Sam nodded slowly.

"Yeah. _Sammy_," said the boy on the right, his tone mocking.

"Whoa, hold on. I'm the only that gets to call him that," Dean said with a grin as his hand closed around the boy's shoulder. The three of them spun around to see Dean standing tall and smirking at them.

"Who're you?" the middle boy asked, attempting to sound cool and aloof but the hint of nervousness was obvious in his voice.

"I'm _Sammy's_ big brother, Dean." The three boys nodded awkwardly and quickly stalked off. "So, how was your first day?" Dean asked as he took a seat in the grass by his little brother.

Sam shrugged. "It was okay. What about you?"

"It was alright. But please explain to me how you already have bullies on your ass when you've only been out of my sight for a couple of hours." Dean said, staring after the three teens as they got on one of the buses.

"Just the routine of picking on the new kid," Sam muttered with a shrug.

"Nobody picked on me and I'm new. I'm hurt. Am I not good enough to be picked on or something?" Dean asked jokingly.

"Yeah. That must be it," Sam muttered dryly as he noticed the black Impala down the street. "Come on," he said. The two of them stood up and made their way over to the car. _Maybe it_ is _better when we're moving from place to place too quickly to settle down,_ Sam thought miserably as he got into the backseat.

-----------------------------------

_School! And another long chapter. I've still got a number of chapters written that I haven't posted yet so I guess updates will still be coming fairly quickly, at least until I run out of chapters. 'Cause there's no way I have the time to write now. 1 monologue, 2 songs (maybe a duet piece as well), 1 dance, a bunch of other miscellaneous things that I need to learn before the week is out. Camp is wearing me out. But I am enjoying it. :)  
_

_Anyway, as always -- tell me what you think!!!_

_~aep  
_


	29. A Father's Wishes

**29. A Father's Wishes**

_My poor heart is sentimental, not made of wood  
I got it bad and that ain't good  
But when the weekend's over and Monday rolls around  
I end up like I start out – just cryin' my heart out…_

The lyrics of that song were still reverberating in Sam's head the next day, drowning out all thought as he stared blankly down at his English assignment. He shifted in the uncomfortable wooden desk chair.

"What are you humming?" Dean asked from the bed.

"What?" Sam asked, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.

"I'll rephrase the question. What song is that?" Dean asked.

"Um, I-I don't know," Sam stuttered lamely.

"Right," Dean muttered to himself as he flicked the television on.

Sam was about to ask Dean to lower the volume when he thought better of it. He tried to block out the noise from the TV and the song that was still playing in his head. After another minute he gave up, stepping outside the motel room for some fresh air. Sam hated himself for identifying with that song, so much so that it was practically all he could think about. He sighed and grudgingly reentered the room.

"Dude, you got that song stuck in my head," Dean complained as Sam closed the door. Sam muttered an apology as he sat back down at the wobbly desk. He banged his head quietly against his open composition notebook for a few moments then plopped his arms down on the desk and used them as a pillow. Within ten minutes he was asleep.

Sam found himself drowning in blood once again, trying to call out Dean's name but only swallowing mouthfuls of the red liquid. He spluttered and coughed, flailing to stay afloat.

"Dean!" he finally managed to cry out. He felt strong arms from above reach for him and pull him from the swirling pool of blood. He looked up expecting to see Dean but instead found himself staring into his father's eyes. Sam looked around to see they were now standing in a house he had never seen before: a dark bedroom with aged wood floors and odd shifting shadows.

"I wish... I w-- Oh, God. I didn't want this for you -- for either of you," John whispered sadly.

"W-What do you mean?" Sam asked, studying his father's grave face. John just shook his head and remained silent. "What do you mean?!" Sam asked again, urgency ringing in his voice this time.

"You know your brother's right -- you can't let this go on."

Sam stared at his father, completely speechless. He wanted to deny it, to tell his father to just stay out of it, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out. His father laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly then walked out of the room, leaving Sam alone. He could feel the shadows swirling and growing, pressing in on him.

"Dean!" he called out again. Silence. "_Dean!_"

"What is it Sammy? I'm right here," Dean said, suddenly leaning in the doorway. Sam rushed over to his brother, grabbing him in a hug. "Get the fuck off," Dean said with quiet ferocity. Tears suddenly filled Sam's eyes.

"D-Dean?"

"Stop it."

"What?" Sam asked, his heart sinking in his chest.

"Just stop it, Sam. We can't, it'll only end badly."

"We don't know that," Sam whispered desperately.

"Yes, we do." Dean said coldly. He looked down at their feet; Sam followed his gaze to see blood bubbling up through the floorboards and quickly rising, ready to swallow them again.

Sam woke up feeling his brother shaking his shoulder roughly. "Nightmare?" he asked. Sam nodded weakly.

"If you wanna talk abou--"

"Isn't that my line?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged and turned to go sit back on his bed. "D-Dean?" His big brother turned around again to face him. Within a second Sam was out of his chair and had his arms wrapped around his brother. He silently prayed that Dean wouldn't react the same way he had in the dream. Dean froze, standing awkwardly as his little brother hugged him.

"You okay?" Dean asked. Sam hugged his brother tighter. After a moment Dean relaxed and allowed himself to wrap his arms around Sammy as well. Sam couldn't hold back the tears and they spilled from his eyes, dampening Dean's shirt. "Sh, it's okay," Dean whispered into Sam's hair, stroking his back comfortingly.

"Promise?"

------------------------------------------

_So, side note: I just went back and watched After School Special {ROFL to those 'Plum-Smugglers' Dean wears as the gym teacher} today and was dismayed to discover that my timeline is whacked. lol. In the episode they attend Truman High in November. I didn't remember properly -- in my head they attended it earlier in the year so that everything up until now has happened after the flashbacks from this episode._

_Oh well… so for the purpose of my story they attended Truman High in the beginning of September and then that's where my story comes in. Shh, no one needs to know that I screwed up… except all of you now. *hangs head in shame and embarrassment* Ignore the discrepancy, please.  
_

_Camp is keeping me very busy and I've got another week before I get a chance to rest. Wish me luck with my songs and my monologue and my dances. *dies*_

_  
Anyway, sorry for the obscenely long author's note. REVIEWS!  
~aep _


	30. A Small Smile

**30. A Small Smile**

"What did the girl in your dream look like?" Dean asked softly after Sam had finished telling him about his nightmares.

"Um, brown hair, thin, pale…" Sam shrugged.

"You just described Kelly Wright," Dean murmured.

"Well, I did see that picture of her when she was a kid," Sam shrugged again.

"When I shot her… in your dream… what exactly did the scene look like?"

"She was tied to a chair, half-naked. You shot her in the heart," Sam muttered, watching as his brother's expression darkened.

"That's how she died. That's how she died in real life. I never told you that. Dad didn't either," Dean whispered.

"It must be some coincidence," Sam said, trying not to read too much into it though he was slightly perplexed.

"Oh, come on Sam, we fight monsters for a living. I think this may be more than just a coincidence."

"But… how?" Sam asked, pulling his knees against his chest and watching his brother closely.

"I-I don't know. Maybe the Wrights really are haunting me." The thought worried and relieved Dean all at once; worried because he didn't want them crawling around in his little brother's head but relieved because if Kelly and Eric were manifesting themselves in their dreams then maybe the horrible nightmare he'd had really wasn't his own sick subconscious.

Then another thought occurred to him: _What if they're able to manifest in real life, not just psychotic dreams? Can they actually hurt Sammy?_ He almost shuddered at the thought. _No, stop it. You're getting ahead of yourself. You don't even know if you're being haunted yet._ He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"What about you?" Sam asked, breaking through his thoughts.

"What about me?" Dean asked, though he already suspected where his brother was going.

"Your dream…?" Sam asked delicately.

"No, it had nothing to do with killing them or anything," Dean muttered quickly.

"Well, it doesn't have to, does it?" Sam asked. "I mean, if they're coming after you they can make you see whatever they want, right?"

Dean shrugged, hating this line of questioning although he had to admit his brother had a point. "Yeah, I guess. But we shouldn't assume anything yet. I'll talk to Dad later, see what he thinks. Just don't worry about it. Get some homework done or something," Dean said, clearly dismissing his brother. Sam sighed but got off the bed and went back over to the desk.

* * *

"It's possible," John told Dean, nodding his head and thinking over his son's theory. "But I think only time will tell. In the meantime, make sure all the lines of salt are unbroken." Dean nodded and obediently went over to the window to begin checking the salt lines. They were all fine but for extra measure Dean grabbed the large bag of rock salt from the corner and made the entire outline of a square around the room so that everything within the four walls was encompassed by a line of salt.

The sun had fallen behind a row of trees on the other side of the road; one last beam of light shooting through the window then disappearing. Sam glanced to where Dean stood staring out the window. Though he could only see his profile he could tell Dean was worried. Sam wondered what exactly Dean's dream had been about. He thought back to when he found his big brother sitting out behind the motel. He had never seen Dean so angry and upset… so scared.

Sam sighed and turned back to his English textbook, scribbling notes on a lined piece of paper. After about an hour he had managed to finish all of his homework. He had done a mediocre job at best but it would have to be good enough. He stood up from his chair and plopped down on the closest bed. He watched his father on the other bed write something down in his journal, then turned to see Dean sitting at the foot of John's bed, staring blankly at the muted television screen. John closed the book with a snap and stood up.

"I'll be back by morning," he said to the room in general. Sam and Dean nodded, both turning to watch their father go. Dean shut off the television with a sigh and took a seat on the bed their father had just vacated.

"So, did you find out those little assholes' names?" Dean asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah. Damian, Xavier and Stephen. I have at least one of them in every class."

"That sucks. They're not giving you any trouble, are they?" Dean asked. The protective note in his big brother's voice brought a smile to Sam's lips.

"No. I mean we're not exactly friendly but I can take care of myself. Besides, I think you kinda scared them off for me," Sam said with an appreciative nod. He was struck by how normal he felt discussing jerks at school with his brother. It was a nice feeling, one he constantly craved for but so rarely experienced.

* * *

Sam savored the feeling of his brother's lips on his, something he had missed in the past few weeks. He breathed heavily into the kiss, one hand curling up through Dean's short hair and pulling him in closer. Dean moaned softly then pulled away.

"I love y--"

Sam awoke before he could hear Dean finish that tender sentence. He sighed disappointedly, wishing that it hadn't been just a dream. _On the bright side; no lakes of blood,_ Sam thought bitterly as he turned on his side to look at Dean's sleeping figure in the other bed. Sam studied his big brother for a moment then closed his eyes, willing himself back into his dream.

Somewhere in the space between asleep and awake Dean could feel his brother's eyes on him. But after a moment he heard the slow deep breaths that signaled that Sammy had fallen asleep. He opened his eyes blearily and watched as a small smile spread across his little brother's lips. That small smile was so comforting to Dean; it let him know that his brother wasn't having another nightmare. Dean felt a smile of his own steal over his face. He crawled out of his bed quietly and knelt beside his brother. He ran a hand through Sammy's hair, softly so as not to wake him.

Dean was proud of himself for managing to stay away from his brother ever since that horrible nightmare but he had to admit he missed the feel of Sam's lips against his own. He placed a soft kiss on his little brother's forehead then made his way back into his bed.

Once again the crippling guilt that came attached to his thoughts and feelings clamped down around his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He took a deep breath and slammed his eyes shut. For the millionth time, he wished that he could be normal, that he could love his brother the way he should. For a split second he even wondered if it would have been better if he had never had Sammy for a brother; if Sammy had never been born. It was a horrible thought and he immediately wished he could erase it from his head. He ran a hand over his face, as if to wipe the slate of his mind clear. He opened his eyes slowly and looked over at his dozing brother.

Dean realized at that moment that he'd much rather have a twisted relationship with Sammy than none at all.

-----------------------------------

_So that chapter was relatively sweet compared to the last few. Anyway, as always, leaving comments/reviews is a good way to keep me happy and posting. :) Please, I know it's been a while but I still deserve them, don't I? *puppy eyes* I'm sorry it took me so long to get this one to you. But camp is over and I'm free for a whole week._

_Anybody seen the new Harry Potter movie yet? I'm dying to. I couldn't because of camp but now… MWAHAHAHA *scurries away to the cinema*  
~aep _


	31. Giving In

**31. Giving In**

Almost three weeks had passed and neither brother had had any more nightmares. They had gotten into a rhythm with school; Sam was excelling and Dean was actually passing. Each one still secretly yearned for the other but they didn't dare tell each other -- it almost felt like they had their lives under control, lives that (for the moment) bordered on normal.

Mrs. Kinney, Sam's English teacher, walked between the desks returning corrected papers to the students. She handed Sam his short story. He looked at the tidy red scrawl at the top of the first page and smiled slightly.

_Beautiful description -- very vivid. I was transported to another place, very interesting and original subject matter. Keep up the good work, Sam. __**A**_

He skimmed the short 'fictional' story he had written about a family that hunted evil supernatural creatures and noted the few revisions. He was reminded of the praise he had received on a story he had written about hunting a werewolf at the last school he had attended. Sam smiled as he remembered how the teacher had said that the brother in the story had been 'quite a character'. The bell rang a few minutes later and Sam made his way to Algebra class.

* * *

"What grade did you get?" Andrea asked Dean quietly in Spanish class.

"B minus," Dean muttered.

"Not bad!" she smiled warmly. Ever since she had introduced herself on Sam and Dean's first day of school she had been a constant presence in Dean's daily life. It was slightly annoying but she was nice enough. Dean didn't exactly spurn her advances but he wasn't actively flirting either. And while he knew that she could become a welcome distraction from Sam if he let her, he didn't quite want to.

The final bell rang and students spilled out of their classrooms and rushed towards the exits. Sam caught up with his big brother at the entrance hall and they left the building together. They crossed the street and got inside the Impala. Their father looked grave in the driver's seat.

"What is it?" Dean asked worriedly.

"A contact of Bobby Singer's was mauled by something and we're only two states away from where it happened. I'm sorry to pull you boys out of school but it's time we moved on."

Dean looked into the rear view mirror and saw his little brother's crestfallen face. He sighed and sat back in his seat, wishing more than anything that he could give his brother a normal life.

* * *

They crossed the state line into Wyoming. A light dusting of snow covered everything. Within a few moments they came upon a Motel 8. John parked the Impala and the mundane routine of signing in and settling down took place.

Sam plunked himself down on the nearest bed, looking morosely out the window. Dean took a seat on the other bed and the three of them muttered their goodbyes as John left to investigate the death.

Tiny snowflakes began to fall outside the window, swirling in the wind. "Christmas is a couple weeks away," Sam murmured, more to himself than to Dean.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said softly. "What do you want?"

"A regular school year, maybe even a _home_..." Sam said quietly, embarrassed for having spoken it aloud.

"I wish I could give that to you," Dean murmured softly. Sam turned to look at his big brother. The sincerity in Dean's eyes was overwhelming, especially since Sam was so used to his usual smug sarcasm. They sat in silence for a few moments.

Sam slowly rose from his bed and walked over to Dean's. He took a seat beside his big brother and leaned his head against his chest.

"W-What are you doing?" Dean asked nervously.

"I miss you," Sam whispered, his cheeks turning red as he said it.

"I miss you too, but we shouldn't..." Dean murmured, feeling his resolve slipping away with each word. He silently cursed his father for uprooting them again. If he hadn't whisked them away again they could have maintained their simple, average routine of attending school and ignoring their feelings. But now everything had been turned upside down and it was hard to distract themselves when they were stuck alone in a motel room.

Against his better judgment, Dean found himself putting his arms around his little brother and breathing him in. Sam closed his eyes and sighed into Dean's strong arms.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, knowing that the overwhelming guilt he felt was still nothing compared to Dean's.

"It's okay," Dean said understandingly.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry I can't be stronger --"

"Don't start. You're not the one that should have to be strong and we both know it," Dean muttered miserably. Sam sighed again but fell silent. He felt Dean's hand gently lift his chin so that they were face to face.

They stared into each other's hazel eyes for a moment, then their lips met. Sam thought he would melt. He had only felt Dean's lips against his in dreams for over a month now but this was real and it sent his heart beating so fast that he was quickly becoming light-headed.

Dean rested his hand against Sam's warm cheek and deepened the kiss, his tongue delicately tasting every inch of Sam's mouth. Sam's tongue swirled around Dean's, fighting for dominance and losing. Dean smiled smugly as Sam gave into him. He allowed his hands to travel as they kissed. They rested on Sam's shoulders for a moment then moved lower, tracing the curves of his shoulder blades down to the small of his back. Sam quivered at his brother's touch.

"I-I love you," he whispered softly as Dean's hands traveled lower still.

"I love you too," Dean murmured. Part of him was screaming to stop but another part was aching for more, aching to just give in -- once and for all. He felt Sam's hands slide over his own then move to lift his shirt off. They separated for a moment and Dean pulled his own shirt off as well.

"Lie down," Dean whispered. Sam quickly obliged. Dean smiled at his little brother's enthusiasm as he lowered himself on top of him. His lips brushed against Sammy's neck, feather-light caresses that quickly gave way to open-mouthed kisses that had Sam moaning. His hands made their way down Sam's chest. He had become more muscular since the last time Dean had touched him. Dean allowed his kisses to move further down. His lips brushed softly over Sammy's collarbone, down the center of his chest, over his firm stomach until Dean's chin brushed against Sam's jeans.

He paused, looking up into his brother's face. Sam nodded, giving him permission. Dean unbuttoned Sammy's jeans, slowly sliding them off. He moved up, laying his lips against his little brother's. Sam indulged in the kiss as his hands traveled down to Dean's jeans and worked them off. Dean pressed his hips into Sam's, making him moan. He delighted in the sound, letting his hands slowly move down Sam's chest again. Dean slipped one hand into Sam's boxers, winding his fingers through the soft curls of hair he found there. Sam moaned again as he felt himself begin to stiffen.

Dean wanted to scream at himself to stop but it felt so good to finally give in after so long. He let his fingers slowly travel down his brother's length. Sam was quivering beneath him, his breath becoming ragged.

"W-Wait. Hold on," Sam whispered nervously against Dean's lips. Dean withdrew his hand from Sam's boxers.

"Do you wanna stop?" Dean asked, half-hoping that Sam did. Sam opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say.

"N-No," he whispered after a moment. He put a hand on Dean's bare chest to make him lie down. His fingers shakily slid off Dean's boxers. He watched as Dean's chest rose and fell quickly with nervous excitement. Sam trailed soft kisses down Dean's stomach until he had arrived at his erect member. He took it in his shaking hand, slowly moving up and down the length.

"Oh God," Dean whispered. Sam lowered his lips to Dean's tip, taking him into his mouth. Dean moaned as Sam's warm, wet lips enveloped him. Sam swirled his tongue over the head, every so slowly taking more of Dean in. He could feel his big brother shuddering with pleasure beneath him. Sam moved down until he had almost all of Dean's cock in his mouth. "S-Sammy," Dean whispered, hands snaking down to come to rest in Sam's long chocolate locks.

Sam released Dean, moving up to kiss him hard on the lips. He took Dean into his hand as he kissed him, slowly pumping. "Mm," Dean breathed into the kiss. Sam's fingers lingered over the head, brushing against it lightly, teasing Dean. Sam broke the kiss to move back down. His tongue glided down the center of Dean's chest to his stomach, dipping briefly into his navel then finally his tongue made contact with Dean's cock again. Sam's tongue moved up and down the length before taking Dean into his mouth again completely. Sam moved at a torturously slow pace, pulling throaty moans and growls from his big brother. Very slowly, he let the pace of his movement increase. Dean bit his lip to keep from screaming.

"Oh, God. Sam, I-I'm gonna c-come," he moaned out. Sam moved more quickly now, wanting to bring his brother to the edge. "W-Wait," Dean said. Sam ignored him, his tongue gliding over Dean's cock, making it throb.

"N-No, stop!" Dean yelled now. He grabbed Sam and threw him off of him. They stared at each other, breathing heavily.

"But, but I wanna make you --"

"No, God no!" Dean whispered, tears filling his eyes now. He grabbed his boxers and pants and quickly slid them on, followed by his shirt. "_No._" He ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Christ," he whispered to himself, sickened at how far they had gone. How could he have let that happen? He despised himself for losing control like that. He grimaced as he began to walk away from the motel, still painfully hard. His tight jeans were crushing him but he didn't care. He wanted the pain, a feeble punishment for the crime, the sin, he had committed.

Before long he came upon a sleazy little bar. He quickly walked inside and ordered a whiskey. He downed it in one gulp and ordered another and another.

"Whoa, slow down there," a woman's voice to the left of him spoke. He looked to where a pretty strawberry blond was standing. She took a seat by him and he gestured for the bartender to give her whatever she wanted.

She studied Dean closely with pale blue eyes. "I'm Amanda."

"Hello Amanda," he muttered after downing his fourth whiskey. "I'm Dean."

"Dean. I like that name," she said quietly. Her finger traveled the rim of her martini glass. She took a sip, still watching Dean closely. "Do you wanna get out of here?" she asked as she put her glass down. Dean eyed her wearily. "My place is just a block away," she said, her pale eyes boring into his.

"Sure," Dean said as he slapped some cash down on the bar and stood up. She led him out of the dimly-lit, smoke-filled room and over to her apartment building. Grimy bricks obscured by ivy climbing all the way to the top. She pulled her key out and unlocked the door. They walked up two flights of stairs until they reached her place. She unlocked the door and gestured for him to go in. The moment she had closed the door he slammed her into it, his lips pressed hard against hers. Her fingers reached greedily for his shirt, lifting it up over his head and casting it aside.

"Bedroom's this way," she whispered, grabbing his arm and leading him down the dark hall. She pulled him onto the bed. This time Amanda initiated the kiss, probing her tongue into Dean's mouth. Dean grabbed her shirt and quickly pulled it off, followed by her bra. He pushed her down into the pillows and laid down on top of her, his hands roaming her bare torso. She moaned as his fingers traced the curve of her breasts. He broke his lips away from hers, licking and sucking his way down her neck.

Dean allowed himself to be lost in this perfect distraction; the alcohol and her body -- all womanly curves, no sharp angles or broadening shoulders. His lips closed around one of her nipples, making her back arch with pleasure. She reached frantically for his pants, undoing them and quickly yanking them off. He did the same to her, pulling her blue thong off with those skinny jeans.

She sat up and reached into her bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. Dean pulled his boxers off and threw them aside. She ripped open the wrapper and pulled the rubber out with a grin on her face. Amanda quickly rolled it onto his erection. She laid back down and whispered in his ear.

"I want you to fuck me."

Dean pushed into her, led on by her loud moans. With each thrust he erased what he had just done with Sammy. Engaging in this act was a way for him to escape into a different world -- a meaningless fuck with a woman, a complete stranger instead of making love to a beautiful boy, his own brother.

------------------------------------------

_OMG... Wow. Long chapter and just... wow. I can't believe I had them do that. Then again it did take 31 chapters for them to get to that point...._

_Anyway. Thanks so much to everyone who leaves comments. PLEASE tell me what you think. If you take the time to read this story, take another second to REVIEW! Especially since this chapter is so... Um... Yeah...  
~aep _


	32. After

**32. After**

Sam lay huddled under the blankets, filled with remorse and confusion. He was so angry with himself and with Dean. They had said time and time again that they would never let it get too far except that was exactly what had happened. He was so disgusted with himself for what he had done that he could barely believe it had really happened. But he knew it had, knew that Dean running away was the only way to stop it. And while he understood the reasons for Dean escaping the situation, all he wanted was for his brother to be with him and to hold him and promise that everything would be okay.

He curled himself into a little ball and let the tears come. He cried until he could barely breathe. Those blood-filled dreams came back to him.

_"I'm not a freak. I won't let this go on."_ Dean had said coldly.

_"Stop."_ Sam had begged his brother.

_"That's what I'm doing -- putting a stop to this."_

He knew now that those dreams had been an attempt to warn him somehow. Sudden hatred coursed through him; why couldn't the real Dean be as strong as the Dean he had dreamed about? He was painfully aware of the fact that Dean wasn't the only one to blame and yet his big brother was no longer someone he could look up to and aspire to be. The responsibility that John had thrust upon his eldest son had always been unfair but Dean had always strived to live up to his father's expectations. He had never quite met those expectations but after tonight he had fallen so far that even if John never knew it would still lay heavy Dean's conscience. It would lay heavy on Sam too, partly because he had tempted his brother to fall but also because Dean had allowed himself to fall.

Sam buried his face in his tear-soaked pillow. _God, how can I be angry with him when I'm the one that..._ he couldn't even allow himself to finish the thought. He tried to block it all out but there were so many conflicting emotions running through him that he couldn't stop his mind from racing. He could barely stand to fully comprehend any of the feelings that were creating such complete chaos inside of him.

* * *

Dean pulled himself off of Amanda, trying to regain his ragged breath.

"Th-That was amazing," she whispered, turning towards him and laying a hand on his chest. He pushed her arm off and stood up, slipping his clothes back on.

"Where are you running off to so soon?" she asked. He shrugged and silently exited the room. He realized that he honestly didn't know where he was going to go as the cold night air hit him leaving the apartment building. He wished he could go back to the motel and just hold his little brother as if nothing had happened but he knew he couldn't do that. The whiskey in his system had finally caught up with him, making it difficult to walk a straight line. He stopped and closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his temples and trying to clear his head. He ducked into a convenience store down the block and asked the clerk if there were any motels nearby.

"There's a Motel 8 about a mile away," the clerk said.

"Anything besides that?" Dean asked desperately. The man shook his head. "Thanks," Dean muttered as he walked out the door. He began the walk back to the motel; he would just have to check himself into another room with one of his fake credit cards.

He entered his new room on the other side of the motel and crashed onto the bed. He yanked the blankets up and over him, quickly falling asleep.

The sunlight illuminated the entire pathetic little room and pulled Dean from his sleep. For one peaceful moment he couldn't remember the events of last night but then it all came rushing back. He didn't think it was possible to hate himself any more for what he had allowed to happen. What sickened him most was not what had actually occurred but how much he had enjoyed it. His hangover was thick and heavy but even through that he was fully able to comprehend just how sick and out of hand his relationship with his brother had finally become.

He stared through the window into the sun, willing it to burn his eyes and make his head throb. Once again he found himself needing pain as some form of punishment, it was never enough to stem the guilt he felt but he knew he deserved as much of it as he could manage to get. The pounding in his head became too much and he ran into the dingy little bathroom, throwing the toilet seat up and heaving into the bowl.

He washed his mouth out and returned to bed, wishing he could fall asleep again and forget everything. Stinging tears welled up in his eyes but he wouldn't allow them to fall. He jammed his eyes shut, unable to hold back any longer and just sobbed. He raked his fingers through his short hair, scratching at his scalp, inflicting more pain. The vulgarity… and the beauty of last night washed over him. He hated the fact that a part of him could consider what he and his brother had done to be beautiful but no matter how hard he tried to quell that piece of him he couldn't.

Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed and slowly stood up, making his way to the bathroom again. He stripped down and stood in the shower, turning it on and blasting freezing water on himself. He stood huddled and shivering under the stream for a moment before turning the knob all the way to the right until it was scalding hot.

He grabbed the fresh bar of soap on the ledge and unwrapped it. He needed to wash away everything that had happened last night. He rubbed the soap bar over his skin, now red hot from the water. He soaped down his entire body then let the boiling water wash it all away. He began scratching at his sensitive skin until crimson was visible under his fingernails. He shut off the shower and stepped out of it, rubbing himself down with a towel. He cast it aside noticing the stark contrast of the white material with the streaks of his blood. He looked at himself in the full length mirror attached to the door. It looked like he had been attacked: his entire body was covered in claw marks. He still wasn't satisfied with the paltry amount of pain he had caused himself, he needed more.

_Stop. If you do anymore Sam and Dad'll notice,_ he warned himself. The thought of Sam seeing him after last night and the thought of him seeing Sam was too much to bear at that moment. He crawled back into bed naked, little beads of his blood soaking into the sheets.

----------------------------------------------

_So... yeah... self-destructive behavior. Pfft, Dean would never do that! Wow... I'm suddenly counting down all the instances in the show where he __does__ do that. Particularly episodes like "Skin" and "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" where he basically shoots himself -- seriously strong self-loathing imagery. Sorry, random thoughts._

_Anyway... Tell me what you think!!!  
~aep _


	33. Pushing Boundaries

**33. Pushing Boundaries**

The sun had risen high in the sky and Dean still hadn't come back. Sam knew it was probably too much to hope for to see him so soon after last night but he needed his big brother. He wished he could cry into Dean's shoulder and apologize but even if he came back Sam knew that Dean wouldn't allow him anywhere near him. The thought tore at Sam. He needed to be close to Dean even though he knew being close was dangerous. Through the din of swirling emotions one came through loudest of all, it wasn't guilt or disgust or regret, it was loneliness. Loneliness because he knew that after this they could never be near one another for fear of them losing complete control again.

Sam heard footsteps and the jangle of keys outside the door and for one shining moment his hopes soared but then the door opened and John walked through it.

"Hey Sam," John said as he plunked his bag to the ground and stepped into the room. Sam nodded morosely. "Where's Dean?" Sam shrugged and avoided his father's gaze. Loneliness was temporarily forgotten, replaced now with burning guilt and fear that John would somehow know what had happened.

_That's not possible,_ he told himself reasonably but his heart pounded wildly in his chest nonetheless. He could feel his father's eyes on him.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

_Of course, the one time he notices I'm upset about something has to be now,_ Sam thought miserably. "Nothing. Just didn't sleep too well," he mumbled awkwardly. "So, did you find out what killed Bobby's friend yet?" he asked, quickly changing the topic. John shook his head and sat down on the other bed. Sam was terrified that his father would be able to hear just how fast his heart was pumping. He stole a glance at John then let out a small sigh of relief at his father's blank stare, John was obviously trying to work out the case.

* * *

It was nightfall before Dean ventured out of his motel room. He saw the Impala in the lot, a sight that made him relieved and nervous at the same time knowing that his father was back. He knew he couldn't put off going back any longer but he wished he could. He would have to keep his jacket on in their presence for the deep scratches he had inflicted on himself were clearly visible on his arms.

He walked slowly back to the room his father and brother occupied, finally reaching the door and standing hesitantly for a moment before pulling out his key and turning it in the lock. The first thing he noticed as he entered the room were Sammy's wide eyes. He muttered a greeting to his family and locked the door behind him. He knew his father would be leaving before long so he hadn't bothered to check out of the other room. He was just stepping in so Sam and his dad wouldn't wonder where he was, although from the look on Sam's face it seemed as if he had been wondering, or rather worrying.

Sure enough, a few moments later John got to his feet, shouldered his bag and said a quick goodbye to his sons. Dean watched through the window as the car sped off.

"That's my cue to leave," Dean muttered, hand reaching for the doorknob.

"P-Please don't."

Dean took a deep breath and turned to look at his little brother. "I have to," he whispered. He hated to see the tears brimming in his baby brother's eyes but he knew the best thing he could do for Sammy was to stay away from him.

He heard soft footsteps on the carpet behind him as he unlocked the door. He opened it quickly and slammed it behind him, briskly walking back towards the room he had rented on the other side of the motel. He heard the door open and Sam call his name but he didn't stop.

"Dean!" there was such a note of urgency in Sam's voice that it broke Dean's heart not to turn around right there and grab his little brother in a hug. He heard fast footsteps behind him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Please," Sam whispered as he turned Dean around to face him. His eyes were shining so brightly with tears that he could barely see. "Please, Dean. I'm so, so sorry."

"Go back inside. You're gonna freeze to death. There's snow on the ground and you're out here with nothing but a t-shirt and shorts," Dean murmured as he removed Sam's hand from his shoulder.

"N-No," Sam whispered defiantly.

"Fine!" Dean grabbed his brother's wrist and dragged him back to the room, trying to block out his quiet sobs. He kicked the door open and pushed Sam through it. Sam grabbed at Dean's jacket sleeve, trying to pull him inside the room. Dean yanked himself away so quickly that his arm slipped out of the sleeve.

Even through Sam's streaming eyes the red marks on Dean's arm were still visible. He looked up into his brother's face questioningly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered, avoiding his brother's gaze and grabbing his sleeve away from Sam to slip his arm back in it.

"Who did this to you?" Sam asked (though he already had his suspicions).

"None of your goddamn business," Dean growled.

"You did it?" It wasn't really a question. Dean shrugged it off and made to walk away again. "Wait! Dean, wait." Something in Sam's voice made him finally stop. He stood wearily in the doorframe, waiting for Sam to speak. "Please, just come inside. I need to talk to my big brother," Sam begged.

Dean walked into the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. "The big brother who molests you?" he asked venomously.

"That's not what happened --"

"That's exactly what happened and you know it." Dean whispered through gritted teeth. "But it's never going to happen again."

"I know. Just stop making yourself out to be the villain," Sam said quietly. "_I_ was the one who wouldn't stop. If you hadn't pulled me off…" he bit his lip to keep from crying again; he was so ashamed of himself. Dean took a deep breath and sat down at the desk.

"Okay, we've talked. Can I go now?" Dean asked coldly. Sam bit down harder on his lip, the coppery taste of blood reaching his tongue.

"How could you do that to yourself, Dean?" Sam asked, eying the cuts and scratches on his brother's arm.

"It's nothing compared to what I did to you," Dean mumbled.

"What are you talking about? You never hurt me!" Sam almost yelled.

"Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet, but eventually it will. Dad's right, I stripped you of your innocence." The two of them stared at each other in silence.

"You didn't take my innocence from me," Sam whispered finally. "Dad did that."

"_What?!_" Dean couldn't believe what he had just heard. "No, no. D-Dad wouldn't do th--"

"I didn't mean it that way," Sam quickly cut in. "But he introduced us to a life where we could never be normal -- a life where monsters lurk in every corner, every shadow."

"What the hell does that have to do with this?" Dean asked, annoyed but understanding exactly what Sam was saying.

"I'm just saying that maybe we should stop trying to force all the blame on ourselves, or to be more specific -- on you." Sam paused for a moment. "I mean, would it really be that horrible to be happy together?" he asked, though his own sense of guilt seemed to tell him it would be. Dean just shook his head in disbelief.

"This shouldn't even be a discussion," he muttered.

"Oh, come on, Dean! The way things have gone, how can we not discuss it?" Sam asked, walking over to stand right in front of his brother. Dean looked up into Sammy's determined face and sighed. Once again the overwhelming urge to kiss that beautiful boy struck him but he held back, furious that he could even think it after his guilt over what had happened the previous night. It was as if Sam knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Why won't you just kiss me?" he whispered.

"Y-You know why," Dean sighed.

"Yeah, I do." Sam knelt down in front of his big brother and caressed Dean's cheek with a shaky hand. Dean jerked his head away but Sam pulled it back towards him. A moment of unbearable silence and then their lips met.

It took all of Dean's strength to break that kiss. "Jesus, Sam -- Stop!"

"Make me," Sam whispered. He slammed his lips against Dean's again. Dean pushed him off and made his way over to the door.

"Stay the hell away from me," Dean whispered menacingly before slamming the door behind him.

Sam covered his face with his hands, barely believing what he had just done. He didn't know what had come over him to act like that. He wanted to be close to Dean, not drive him away, but that's exactly what he had just done.

----------------------------------------

_Poor boys. I can't believe what I keep putting them through. And trust me, it's about to get worse. *shifty eyes*_

_As always, tell me what you think. You guys inspire me and drive me to update more quickly. Love to all of you who take the time to comment/review. *giant huggle*  
~aep _


	34. Awake

**34. Awake**

Dean paced his small room, a thousand emotions surging through him. He was having trouble fighting the very strong impulse of running back to the other room and wrapping his arms around Sam.

"Oh, come on, you should just do it and get it over with already. You came so close last night… literally." Dean spun around to see Kelly smirking at him with her arms across her chest.

"I-I'm not dreaming," Dean said as he stared at her.

"No, you're not. Although if you're wondering, that dream you had where you carved your brother up like a Thanksgiving turkey was all you and your own psychotic bullshit. I just found it entertaining to watch -- a truly inspiring show," Kelly said with a saccharine smile.

"So where's your brother?" Dean asked, silently cursing himself for not having laid salt down in the room.

"He's actually having a chat with yours."

"Oh, sure," Dean said sarcastically.

"It's true. You were so quick to run out of the room just now…. Are you sure you didn't break your little salt line?"

Panic flooded through him as he rushed across the motel towards his brother's room. "Sam, let me in!" he yelled, pounding on the door and searching his pockets for his key.

"Sammy's busy," Kelly whispered into his ear. "You didn't happen to lose your key, did you? Because that would be a shame."

"Sam! Open the goddamn door! Sammy!" The panic in him was building with each second of silence. He hurled himself at the door but it didn't budge. "Sam!" He tried again, this time it finally burst open. He rushed inside to see Eric straddling Sam on the bed, holding him down. Something glinted in Eric's free hand: a shard of glass.

"I told you how inspiring your dream was, didn't I?" Kelly asked. Dean grabbed a handful of salt from the broken line at the door and threw it at Eric who disappeared in an instant. He grabbed another handful and launched it at Kelly who vanished as well. Dean ran over to his brother.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked.

"Y-Yeah," Sam said shakily. "The line," he said, pointing to the disturbed salt. Dean nodded and rushed back over to the door to fix the scattered salt line.

"That was Eric, wasn't it?" Sam asked. Dean nodded as he sat down next to Sam on the bed.

"Look, we can't risk leaving the room. All we have is that salt -- Dad has all the weapons in the trunk and we don't know when he'll be back. We just have to wait it out," Dean told his brother.

"What about Dad, what if they hurt him?" Sam asked, the fear in his voice was palpable.

"Don't worry about Dad. He can handle himself, besides, he's got all the damn weapons he needs to hold 'em off. Let's just hope he gets back soon."

Dean was horrified with himself, his nightmare had been such an 'inspiration' to the Wrights that they had almost succeeded in reenacting it. He watched his brother closely; Sam was still shaking slightly and there was a small cut on his bare chest where the glass had touched his skin.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean asked gently.

"Yeah," Sam said again, though the expression on his face indicated otherwise. He glanced at the worried look on his big brother's face and sighed. "It's j-just… he was going on about how he was gonna make all your dreams come true. That slicing me up was going to be his early birthday present to you." Sam studied his brother for a moment. "Dean, what did he mean?"

Dean's breath caught in his chest. He didn't want his little brother to know about the sick dream he had had but there was a knowing look in Sam's eyes that told him he had to be honest. "Th-That nightmare from a while ago -- the one that freaked me out so badly… Eric attacked you with a piece of glass." Dean couldn't bring himself to tell Sam about the end; how the blood gurgled in his throat as it seeped out of him, how the person who had really attacked him had actually been Dean.

Sam sat himself up and leaned against his big brother's shoulder, thankful that Dean had managed to stop Eric in time. Dean stood up, leaving Sam alone on the bed. He had almost managed to completely forget that horrid dream but now it all came rushing back. Dean could barely stand being around his little brother because all he could see when he looked at him was a corpse. If Kelly hadn't let slip that Eric was with Sam that's just what Sam would be right now -- a corpse.

-----------------------------------------

_Dun dun dun. The Wrights are back and more dangerous than ever. OMG. Sorry, spazzing._

_This storyline got very intense and I ended up writing 6 pages of material that didn't really fit with how I wanted the story to go but I saved it and in case anyone is curious as to where my twisted mind ran off to leave a comment and I'll send it to you in a private message. I'm really proud of it and hate that I had to cut it from the story but it just wouldn't work with I want to do, sadly. Maybe I'll use bits and pieces of it later on in the story, we'll see._

_  
* Sadly, the updates will be more sporadic seeing as camp starts Monday. The Summer Vocal Music Academy. Wish me luck -- I suck at reading music and that's a big part of this program, well hopefully I'll improve over the course of the next three week._

_I will update as often as I can but don't expect too much. One or two updates a week, if I'm lucky. Sorry, guys._

_And sorry for the wicked long author's note. Anyway, REVIEWS = LOVE.  
~aep _


	35. Too Easy

**35. Too Easy**

"Aren't you glad I'm alive?" Sam asked as he watched his brother pace the room.

"Of course I am! How the hell can you even ask that?" Dean asked, still walking back and forth nervously.

"Then why won't you even look at me?" Sam said. Dean finally stopped and looked his little brother in the eye.

"I'm looking at you, okay?" Dean said as he took a seat on the bed. Sam inched closer to his brother but Dean quickly stood up again. "When do you think Dad'll be back?" Dean asked, changing the subject. Sam shrugged and stood up, once again trying to get close to his brother. "Sam, stop it."

"No, Dean. You stop running away."

"What am I running from?" Dean asked in frustration.

"How about _everything_?" Sam said, grabbing his brother by the arm and forcing Dean to look him in the eye.

"I'm just sick of… I don't even know. I miss when things were simpler, when I could just joke around or help Dad out with a hunt. But now the psycho murderers I killed are back from the dead and trying to hurt my little brother. I mean what kind of supernatural soap opera bullshit is this?" Dean took a seat on the bed again, his head in his hands. "And the worst thing is I can't even focus on the fact that you could've died because I'm too fucking busy freaking out about what we did last night."

He had barely finished speaking when the door opened and their father walked through it. The brothers' eyes widened slightly, afraid their father had heard what Dean had just said but it seemed he hadn't. Dean quickly stood up.

"Dad, Kelly and Eric tried to attack Sam. We've gotta salt and burn 'em, fast." John looked from Dean to Sam then back again.

"What happened?" John asked.

* * *

"The state had them cremated," John explained as he got back to the car. He pulled off his black tie, deposited his fake badge in the glove compartment and started up the car.

"Great, so what's tying them here?" Sam asked.

"I vote we burn down the whole damn farm property they grew up on." Dean said vehemently. "Just light up the barn and that house --"

"Dean, slow down. We have to be smart about this," John cut across his son.

"I'm not gonna slow down! Eric almost carved Sam up!" Dean said furiously.

"I know, but we don't know that the farm is what's keeping them earthbound," John said reasonably.

"Well it's gotta be something out there and I don't wanna take any chances!" Dean said. Sam watched silently as his brother and father bickered from the front seat.

"What about the bodies?" Sam asked.

"I told you, they were cremated," John said again.

"No, I mean the victims. Newspaper said that a lot of the girls had been raped. I don't know about Kelly but there are probably traces of Eric's DNA sitting in a lab or an evidence locker somewhere."

* * *

"Sammy was right," Dean said, holding the small plastic container up against the light. "That's just… gross." John held out a hand for the container and Dean gave it to him.

"Keep a look-out," John hissed as he began to unscrew the top. Dean made his way over to the doorway though the whole lab was deserted at this time of night. Dean heard the hiss of salt and the striking of a match.

"It's done," John said. "Although I doubt it was that easy."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Dean thought back to all the burning of remains he had done in the past: it always seemed like they had to race against the clock yet right now things seemed fairly 'mellow' -- not an angry ghost in sight trying to stop the Winchesters from obliterating it. "Still, I guess it's good to cover our bases. Let's get back to the motel," Dean said. They made their way out of the lab in silence and arrived back at the motel within a matter of minutes.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked when John and Dean walked through the door.

"Good." John said as he set his journal down on the desk and discarded his jacket. Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. I mean we don't know for sure if that did it but I guess it's one less thing to worry about now," Dean said with a shrug as he took a seat on the bed closest to the door. The lights flickered and the three Winchesters all felt themselves tense up but nothing happened and after a moment they relaxed.

"So since we don't really know if that worked… is there some way to find out for sure?" Sam asked his father.

"We could try summoning the spirit but it's risky," John began. "Though I don't think it'll come to that. These two seemed overly eager to make contact. They're cocky and reckless. If destroying the DNA didn't work they'll probably be here soon enough to laugh in our faces."

"And if it _did_ work I can just picture Kelly showing up for revenge," Dean added.

As if on cue, the lights went out and the room was plunged into darkness.

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_Lame chapter compared to the alternate one. But bonus points for the cliffy? Haha. I know, cliffhangers are annoying but occasionally they must be done. And don't worry, things will be picking up soon._

_Depending on how many comments I get I'll be posting one more chapter before camp starts. So basically, the more of you that comment the sooner you get the next chappie. It's like blackmail. But the happy kind._

_  
So you all know that Comments/Reviews = Cookies... warm delicious chocolate chip cookies that melt in your mouth... Dammit. I want a cookie now. *dies*  
~aep _


	36. Evidence Of Stolen Childhoods

**36. Evidence Of Stolen Childhoods**

The door banged open, making Sam and Dean jump, though John remained unfazed. No one was there. A gust of wind blew through the open door, scattering the salt line there. John stood up tensely as Dean ran to close the door (but not in time). A punch landed in his jaw, knocking him down. He looked up to see Eric standing over him in the darkness.

"Did you honestly think pulling that little stunt would actually destroy me?" Eric asked, his tone cold and offended. Kelly walked in behind him, her arm slinking around her brother's waist.

Dean shrugged and smirked as he got to his feet. "Had to give it a try, didn't we?"

"Ooh, look at you, big tough man with the smile firmly in place," Kelly mocked as she watched Dean's expression in the fading sunlight that streamed through the open door. "How's little Sammy?" she asked. The smile faded from Dean's features. Kelly smirked and walked towards Sam who stood against the bed with his hands clutched tightly to the edge of it. John walked between his youngest son and the spirit, creating a shield. His stance was so intimidating that Kelly actually froze for a moment.

"You're not bringing him into this again," Dean whispered as he came to stand beside his father, bristling at the thought of the Wrights going anywhere near his little brother again.

"Hey, you're the one obsessed with the kid," Kelly said with a grin, glancing to John who seemed slightly perturbed by this statement.

"Um, _right,_" Dean brushed it off as best he could, "You know it's only a matter of time before you're both gone where you can't hurt anyone ever again, right?"

"Are you so sure about that?" Eric asked. Dean nodded with a determined grin.

"Yeah, I am. I'll make sure of it."

"Big talk for someone who can't even figure out what's keeping us… what's the term? _Earthbound?_" Kelly said mockingly.

"Oh, trust me. We have a few ideas," Dean said cryptically. He hoped he hadn't just imagined her smile falter slightly.

A quick movement behind John and Dean made them turn. Sam had grabbed a shotgun from his backpack that was lying beside the bed. John grabbed it up and fired at the Wrights. Before they had time to register exactly what had happened, the salt shells blasted through them, making them instantly disappear. John dropped the gun and quickly fixed the line of salt on the door's threshold. He slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Okay, so that plan was a bust," Sam said.

"Which means we're back where we started," John growled quietly.

* * *

"Okay, _now_ can we burn it to the ground?" Dean asked as his father parked the car in front of the familiar old barn.

"Not yet," John answered firmly, though it sounded as though he was warming up to the idea.

"Can I help look?" Sam asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"No," Dean said straight away.

"Yes," John countered. "This place is huge, the more people to search it the better. But you're not to stray too far by yourself, is that clear?" Sam nodded and the three of them got out of the car.

Dean held the screen door open for his little brother who stepped inside the house silently. Dean let the screen door slam behind the two of them but propped the heavy wooden door open with a wedge that had accumulated a thick layer dust in the corner of the entrance hall. A shiver ran through Sam's spine as he entered the old house. He looked around, squinting in the weak light. Dean tried the light switch; it took a few seconds for the overhead light to come to life, illuminating the entire hall.

"Needle in a fuckin' haystack," Dean grumbled, completely clueless as to where to start their search.

"I'll check it out upstairs, you look around here," Sam said as he began to climb the stairs. Dean watched his little brother disappear from view then made his way down the hall and into the room on the right where he had found the three kidnapped girls, one of whom he could still picture clearly -- dead on the floor. He flicked the light on and for a split second he thought he really did see that dead girl sprawled on the floor, but when he blinked she was gone.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the dresser that stood at an angle from the wall. It must have been what the girls had used to barricade the door that night. He opened the first drawer slowly: stacks of messily-folded clothes. He quickly tore through them but found nothing. He opened the second and third drawer with the same disappointing (but not unexpected) results. He strode over to a door on the other side of the room. Opening it he saw a small closet, empty except for a few yellowing newspaper clippings. He gathered them up and rifled through them. Old articles about local events but nothing of any importance. Dean sighed and left the room, heading now for the living room.

Sam treaded lightly on the carpet in the upstairs hallway, watching as his feet kicked up little clouds of dust. He gently pushed the nearest door open to reveal a bathroom. He did a quick scan of the room but found nothing. He moved on to the next: a bedroom. Two twin-sized beds on opposite sides of the room. Sam made his way to a dresser against the opposite wall that sat between two large windows that showed a large empty field. A mug with pens and pencils sticking out of it and a corrected homework assignment dated November 1979 with Eric's untidy signature on the first line was the only thing on top of the dresser. It was eerie, Sam half-expected younger versions of Eric and Kelly to walk in and get ready for bed.

He shook the thought from his head and quickly rifled through the drawers. All he found were more school supplies and ratty old clothing. He scoured the rest of the upstairs rooms with no success. He made his way back downstairs, poking his head in the different rooms in search of his brother.

"Dean?"

"Down here," Dean called from an door that stood ajar at the end of the hall. Sam pulled the door open and slowly walked down the creaky stairs that led to the basement. He took in the sight of the dimly-lit room: clutter everywhere. The mess would be a pain to sort through but it looked more promising than any room either of them had gone through yet.

"Help me look through some of these boxes," Dean murmured as his fingers dug in an old cardboard box full of old toys. Sam pulled a box towards him and sat down on the hard cement floor. He opened it, pawing through the contents: old albums full of photographs of a lovely dark-haired woman and two smiling little toddlers.

"Look," Sam said as he handed one of the albums to Dean. "It's weird to think of them as happy little children." Dean nodded in agreement then set the album down and began to go through another box.

Sam flipped through the next album from his box. Each page showed pictures of a happy young couple and their two children. The third album showed Eric and Kelly in their pre-teens and the kind-looking woman from the previous pictures had vanished. They no longer looked happy and the handsome man no longer looked young or carefree. A shadow on his face, some indefinable expression that looked vaguely threatening and cruel. Sam placed all the albums back in the box and pushed it aside.

The corner of a box dug into his back. He turned around and pulled it away from the wall and closer to him. The cement wall could be seen where the box had been a second ago but even in the dim light Sam noticed a glint: metal plating. He pushed a few more boxes away from the wall to reveal a safe that had been built into the foundation of the house.

"Dean, come here," he said. Dean stood up and walked over to his brother. He knelt down in front of the safe. Knocking on the door he said, "It doesn't sound too thick. We might even be able to blast it open with just a shotgun. I'll be right back. Keep looking through some of those boxes."

"Okay," Sam said as he opened the nearest box and tore through it: a few old books and paperwork. Sam managed to go through three more boxes before Dean arrived.

"What took so long?" he asked.

"Checked with Dad in the barn. He's still going looking around in there," Dean explained. "Alright, now back up," he warned as he cocked the shotgun he now held in his hand. Sam obeyed and quickly moved away. Two loud bangs sounded in the cramped basement, then the scraping of slightly rusted metal and the safe door was open.

Dean pulled everything out of the safe: a few wads of cash and two shoeboxes. He handed one of the boxes to Sam and opened the other.

"Christ," he whispered disgustedly as he saw the contents of the small box he held. It was filled to the brim with polaroid photos of young Kelly and Eric, naked, forced to pose for the camera. They couldn't have been more than nine or ten. He shoved the lid back on the box and snatched the box Sam had just opened away from him. He didn't want his little brother seeing that.

"G-Go to the barn and help Dad," Dean ordered.

"Why? What's in those boxes?" Sam asked.

"Just do it!" Dean practically yelled, his voice cracking.

"Okay, okay," Sam muttered, standing and climbing the stairs. Dean waited until he heard the screen door slam before turning back to the shoeboxes. He wished he didn't have to search the second box but he knew he did. He lifted the top off gingerly, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He opened them after a moment and let them fall to the open box. A few more polaroids, though in these pictures the hair had been shorn from Eric and Kelly's head, leaving bald patches in places. He was forcibly reminded of pictures he had seen of people in concentration camps.

But this box had more than just pictures in it; a plastic bag wrapped tightly and shoved down into the box. Dean took the bag and opened it to discover what looked like the hair that had been cruelly cut away in the polaroids. He could see the long light brown hair coiled untidily in the bag with chunks of shorter dark hair mixed in. He shoved the bag back into the box and replaced the pictures on top. He stood and pulled a lighter from his pocket, ready to open it and spill the lighter fluid over the two shoeboxes when a voice behind him made him jump.

"So you found it, all the vapid documentation to our childhood," Kelly said. Her tone was almost… sad?

"W-Where's you brother?" Dean asked, quickly looking around the room.

"Déjà vu much?"

"Sam's with Dad. He's safe --"

Kelly's voice was disturbingly matter-of-fact: "Oh, we already took care of your father."

-----------------------------------

_Another cliffhanger but at least it was a long chapter. I'll try to have more ready soon-ish so stay tuned. And remember, Comments/Reviews = A happy comment!whore. :) *falls asleep at keyboard, wakes up with a snort* Sorry it took so long to get this chapter to y'all. Camp has been keeping me so so so so so so... [insert many more so's] busy. Think less camp, more vocal music college (we're even reading 17 chapters from a college textbook). How's everybody else doing?  
_

_~aep_


	37. Risen

**37. Risen**

Dean's heart pounded and his mind raced. What did she mean that they had 'taken care' of his dad? That mischievous smirk that reminded Dean so much of himself was playing on Kelly's face.

He knew now was his chance to destroy the Wrights, once and for all. His fingers clawed at the lighter, trying to pry it apart. He finally managed it, only to find that it was dry. Kelly smirked.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. He grabbed the two shoeboxes and ran upstairs and out of the house. Darkness had descended and he couldn't see a thing. He took a deep breath and let his eyes adjust. He could just make out the gleam of moonlight on the smooth surface of the Impala. He ran towards it, throwing open his door and searching the glove compartment for another lighter in vain. "Fuck!" He slammed the door and ran to the barn. He reached the large open door and stepped through it only to meet deafening silence.

"Sam? Dad?" he called out, eyes struggling to make anything out. "Eric?!"

"No need to yell," Eric said smoothly. Dean spun around to face him, still clutching the boxes tightly under his arm. Eric glanced at them.

"Where are they?" Dean asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice. He saw Eric gesture towards the other end of the large barn. Dean ran blindly forward, almost knocking into farm equipment as he made his way across the expanse. Suddenly, Dean tripped. He looked down to see what had made him stumble.

It was his father -- unconscious on the floor. Dean's fingers found John's neck and felt the strong pulse. An instant of relief flared inside of him that was quickly quashed by the fact that he still didn't know where his brother was.

"Sam?" Dean called again. "Sam!" He knew the panic in his voice was audible now but he didn't care.

Eric cleared his throat. "Look up," he told Dean. Dean squinted up through the darkness. He could see the outline of a figure suspended in midair. He watched as his brother was raised slowly and then suddenly dropped with a sickening thud. Dean ran over to his brother who lay crumpled on the floor.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean whispered. Sam's eyes were open just a crack, exposing the white. His breathing was ragged but he seemed unaware of his surroundings. "Sam!" Dean shouted now. Sam moaned quietly.

"What the fuck did you do to him?!" Dean snarled at Eric. Kelly materialized beside her brother, her smirk still in place. They slowly made their way over to the Winchester brothers. Kelly lit the overhead lamps with a flick of her hand. Dean shut his eyes against the sudden brightness but quickly opened them again, glaring up at the Wrights.

Kelly knelt down beside Dean and reached out a hand towards Sam. Her finger caressed his cheek. "Stay the fuck away from him!" Dean growled, grabbing his brother up in his arms and carrying him over to where his father lay. He set Sam down carefully and began to frantically search his father's pockets.

"Come on, come on," he whispered under his breath, fingers groping for a lighter. Finally his hand closed around the warm metal of his father's lighter. He yanked it from his father's jeans pocket and lit it, ripping the top off the shoebox that contained the hair and pulling it all out of the plastic bag.

Eric strode over and knocked the lighter from Dean's hand. It fell to the ground, quickly igniting the straw that was strewn across the dirty barn floor. The flames began to lick their way towards the Winchesters. Dean ripped his jacket off and smothered the fire quickly.

Dean scrambled over to the lighter but Eric's foot connected with his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He clutched at his side but determinedly continued toward the lighter, now only a few feet away. His fingers curled around it but before he could flick it on again he felt himself rise into the air. In his shock, it slipped out of his hand.

"You son of a bitch! Put me down!" he yelled.

"Not until you promise to play nice," Kelly said simply. "Because trying to destroy us doesn't seem like playing nicely."

"You hurt my family. Don't expect to exist much longer. I swear to God --"

"Oh, save it." Eric said with a lazy flick of his finger, sending Dean crashing into the barn wall. Dean grimaced in pain, his mind racing. He had to destroy the Wrights but right now he was powerless. He watch as Kelly raised her arms, slowly sending John and Sam into the air as well. They dangled lifelessly before Dean. He reached his arms out, desperate to reach them but he couldn't. He slammed his eyes shut and focused with all his might. He pictured himself moving against Eric's power and reaching his family. He felt his body move away from the wall slightly only to be slammed back against.

"You guys haven't been dead long enough to be pulling off these tricks. Who's helping you?" Dean asked as he continued to struggle against the invisible force that held him in place.

"We're just fast learners," Kelly said nonchalantly from behind her brother. Eric smirked and nodded. Dean managed to get a few inches away from the wall but was quickly pushed back against it.

"Our game, our rules," Kelly sang out. "Sweetie, don't be stupid. Just stop struggling, you're gonna tire yourself out."

"Yeah. Come on, Dean." Eric said with mock disappointment. "You should know by now that you can't really stop us. I mean, hell, you killed us and that didn't work. We've come back stronger and more lethal -- phoenixes rising from the ashes."

"Yeah, beautiful metaphor, don't mind if I gag," Dean growled. "Look, do whatever you want to me. Just leave my family alone."

"Christ, you're such a cliché!" Kelly said in disbelief. "The tortured soul begging to be punished in exchange for the safety of the ones he loves? That's a tired script."

"It's not a script," Dean shouted, once again struggling to propel himself forward and reach his father and brother. He managed to push ahead and move a few more inches from the wall but he was slammed back again. The pressure that held him tight to the wall increased until it was practically crushing him. He could barely breathe.

"Please," he choked out.

"Ah, Dean. Begging doesn't become you," Eric said, a smirk identical to Kelly's playing on his face.

The pressure disappeared and he slid down the wall, twenty feet until he crashed to the ground. He looked up to where his father and brother slowly rotated in the air. Sam stirred, slowly coming to.

"D-Dean? Dad?" he said weakly.

"Sammy, it's gonna be okay!" Dean called up to his brother.

"Please, Dean. Don't give your brother such empty promises. They're just comforting lies. It's pathetic," Kelly said with a disapproving shake of her head.

"Don't listen to them, Sammy. I swear, I'll get us out of this," Dean said. Sam nodded slowly.

"Oh, right. Because you've done such a bang-up job so far," Kelly said with a dry laugh. "Come on. You're helpless. Thanks to you, we can throw you all around like rag dolls. You know, being dead has its perks."

Kelly turned to face one of the small windows at the back of the barn, her eyes fixed on it intensely. The glass suddenly cracked and shards came flying towards them all. She stopped them short -- letting them revolve slowly, the light from the lamps hitting them and making them gleam.

"Do you remember that fascinating dream of yours, Dean?" she asked quietly.

-----------------------------------

_Yet another cliffy. I'm evil, I know. But I promise the next chapter won't be another Dun Dun Dun ending. Well, much love to everyone who leaves reviews/comments! You guys make my day!_

_2 Weeks of camp down, 1 to go. Wish me luck! Apparently, I can sing operatic literature. Something I didn't really know I could do until this week. I hit an F# which is kinda high for an alto/mezzo-soprano singer. *is all proud* haha. Anyway, I'll try to have more chapters soon. I should have at least a little time to write over the weekend. So don't forget about this story! I will have more soonish. lol. Once camp stops I'll be able to update more frequently again. Well... peace, love & all that jazz.  
_

_~aep _


	38. Whispered Portents

**38. Whispered Portents**

"Don't," Dean said, clambering to his feet and making his way towards Kelly. She arched an eyebrow menacingly as the shards of glass continued to glint in the light. Dean watched silently as they rose higher and began to swirl around his family.

Kelly raised one hand and then dropped it suddenly, releasing John from the invisible force that held him there and he making him fall to the ground with a loud thud. Above, the pieces of glass circled in even tighter, beginning to shred Sam's clothes. The shards continued to swirl as Dean ran over to his father and tried to wake him.

"Come on, come on! Dad!" Dean grabbed his father's coat in his fists and shook him roughly. "Wake up!" Sam moaned and Dean looked up to see the glass cutting deeper into Sam's exposed skin and making whimper in pain.

"STOP IT!" Dean yelled.

"That's better," Eric said, sauntering over to Dean. "Get angry. No more whimpering and moaning and begging."

"Fuck you," Dean spat. He tore his eyes away from his brother to search the floor for the fallen lighter. He didn't see it anywhere. He tried to breathe deeply, tried not to panic but he had never been in a situation this serious where his father wasn't able to help him fight.

Sam's scream broke through his brother's thoughts. Dean looked up to see blood falling fast and thick from the suspended figure. "Dean!" Sam yelled, his voice constricted by unshed tears. Kelly and Eric exchanged a look and a nod and she allowed the glass to fall, finally stopping the torment. Sam followed, crashing down on top of the shards and gasping in pain. Dean pulled Sam towards him gingerly, letting him lean against him, watching as his little brother's blood dripped onto his clothing.  
"D-Dean," Sam whispered, his face contorted in pain and fear.

"I'm gonna fix this," Dean whispered back. He turned at the sudden movement of his father struggling to his feet. "Dad?" John gave him an indecipherable look then turned to the Wright siblings. Though he could barely stand he had never looked so imposing.

"Enough," he said, his voice steady despite the shaking in his legs.

"I see where Dean gets his macho attitude," Kelly told Eric conversationally. He nodded in agreement as though they were just grabbing a bite to eat instead of torturing three people.

"You are going to leave my family alone," John said venomously.

"You're about to fall over and you're giving us orders? You know, I just don't see you as a threat right now," Eric said condescendingly. He raised his hand and John was flung up into the air, crashing right against the ceiling before being dropped again, facedown into the floor. Dean ran to his father's side and turned him over. Blood was trickling from what looked like a broken nose and a deep gash along the side of his head was bleeding profusely. Dean yanked his jacket off and pulled off his t-shirt, tying it around his father's head like a tourniquet.

"This is the man you emulate?" Eric scoffed. "He's nothing special; just some loner freak that drags his kids around the country with him."

"Shut up!" Dean shouted over his shoulder.

"Oh, that's right," Kelly began, "Your father's a 'hero'. Grow up. It's so pathetically puerile -- your constant efforts to please him. And it never works. You're never good enough. I just don't understand why you have such respect for a man who clearly has none for you."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." Dean said, still holding his hand pressed against the blood-soaked shirt around his father's head.

"Explain it to us then," Eric said. He looked down into Dean's disbelieving face. "No, really. We want to know. We find the human condition fascinating, even now that we're above it."

"Exactly. I mean, why do you think we had all our little test subjects to begin with?" Kelly chimed in.

"Test subjects? Don't you mean your victims?" Dean spat, staring at the two of them. He tore his eyes away from them for a second to look down at his father. The bleeding had slowed but he was incredibly pale. He glanced over to where his brother lay. Sam's breathing was haggard and weak.

"Whatever," Kelly said with a shrug. "You know to be honest, I think you're the most interesting case study we've ever seen," she turned to Eric. "What do you think?" He nodded in agreement as Dean slowly stood and made his way back over to his brother.

"No one else ever stood up to us like you did. They were smarter than you. They knew it would be over faster if they stayed quiet, didn't fight back. But not _you_, Dean. No, you have to fight. It's in your nature. You have to let that aggression out so you can focus on the hunt and not those feelings that are hidden _just_ beneath the surface."

"Fascinating evaluation, doctor," Dean hissed as he pulled Sam into his arms and carried him to where their father was lying on the floor.

"Oh, I'm not done," Kelly said with a little grin, eying him closely. "No. This goes beyond the anger and sick urges inside of you. Bottom line, you act the way you do because you hate yourself so much that you're not only willing to sacrifice yourself for your family, but eager to --"

"That's what family does!" Dean said.

"You're right, family should protect each other. But you don't just want to protect your family, do you?" Kelly asked, her eyes glinting malevolently as she looked at Sam. "And you hate yourself for it and for so many other reasons that I'm glad I don't have to live in your damaged psyche."

"I'm the damaged one?" Dean asked almost indignantly. "You and your brother are the ones who think torturing and killing people is a hoot."

"You can't stand having to look yourself in the mirror every day, can you?" she asked as though she hadn't been interrupted. Dean scoffed.

"Please, I'm gorgeous!" he said, a little of his smart aleck attitude shining through.

"Skin deep. One day your snide comments aren't going to get you past the hard part; one day pummeling on some demon won't be enough. You're like a short fuse and I can't wait to see when you blow. My guess, it won't be too long from now. I honestly don't think you'll make it past thirty. And not because of the vigilante routine your daddy taught you but because you're just itching to risk that pretty little neck of yours." She slowly made her way over to the three of them, kneeling down until her face was inches from Dean's.

"You need to find redemption and you think that hunting monsters is the way to do it. Well, guess what? You can't. You can't redeem something that was never whole to begin with. You're the pathetic shell of a person."

Dean stared into her face, for once at a loss for what to say.

"What, no snappy comeback?" she asked expectantly.

"I don't need to defend myself to you," Dean said. Eric scoffed and walked over to where his sister was kneeling.

"Come on, Kelly, enough of this," Eric said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. She straightened up and looked at him. They shared another silent exchange while Dean watched nervously.

"Oh, please. Let's play with our food a _little_ longer?" Kelly asked, pouting her lips playfully and clasping her hands together. Eric rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said. Kelly grinned widely and turned back to Dean. She moved in closer until her cold lips were against Dean's ear. Her skin felt real against his and he shuddered at the contact.

"You are special, Dean. Everyone makes a fuss about your brother but I don't care what they say… you're the unique one."

"_They_?" Dean asked quietly, glancing down at his little brother. Sam seemed to have slipped from consciousness as well as John.

"We hear whispers in the dark," Kelly elaborated.

"Oh, right. Thanks for the clarification," Dean muttered wryly at the vague remark Kelly had supplied him with. He glared into her smirking face.

"Maybe your daddy will explain it to you someday," Eric said condescendingly. "Kelly, I'm getting impatient. I've had enough of this little --"

"Well I haven't!" Kelly jerked around and yelled suddenly. Eric was struck silent by his sister's sudden ferocity. Dean's eyes darted between them. A glint from on the floor behind them caught his attention.

It was the lighter. He almost hadn't seen it under the straw that obscured most of the floor from view. He tore his eyes away from it to look back at the Wrights.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kelly hissed to her brother. "We're dead now; we have all the time in the world -- why are you rushing things? You used to revel in taking the time to test their limits!"

"We're not talking about dumb coeds anymore. You're getting too damn cocky." Eric said through clenched teeth. Despite the predicament Dean knew he was in, he couldn't help but enjoy seeing Eric squirm.

Dean knew that the locks of hair were only a few yards behind him but he had no way to get to it or the lighter without attracting the Wrights' attention.

_Maybe I should get their attention,_ he thought desperately to himself.

"Hey, getting a little bored over here with your bickering," Dean said, snapping his fingers at Eric and Kelly. They turned back to him. Dean gently pulled Sam from his lap and set him down on the floor by John. He got to his feet and made his way towards the ghosts before him.

"What the hell were you saying about Sam? Who's been 'whispering' about him?" Dean threw the question out there, using his own curiosity as a tool to distract Kelly and Eric.

"Oh, the rumor mill has been spinning quite a few tall tales about you Winchesters," Kelly said with a shrug.

"Like what?" Dean pressed on, slowly advancing upon the Wrights.

"Oh, we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," Eric said with mock sincerity.

"That's okay. I've always been a cliff notes kind of guy," Dean assured him. He had made his way over to the lighter. He could feel the little rectangle firmly beneath his foot but he didn't know how he was going to make his next move.

Before he could even being to figure out what he was going to do next, a deafening bang shattered the quiet. Rock salt shot through the Kelly and Eric, making them disappear instantly. Dean spun around to see Bobby Singer standing in the open barn door with a shotgun held high. His face was hidden in the shadows cast by his ever-present baseball cap.

Neither of them bothered to greet the other as Dean bent down and grabbed up the lighter. He ran across the barn and spilled salt over the open bag of hair. He flicked the lighter. Kelly's voice sounded; a shriek that tore through the barn.

"NO! Dean, don't you d--" Dean ignored her as he dropped the lighter into the bag. He watched the plastic bag melt into the hair as it burned away.

"No!" Kelly shrieked again. Dean turned to watch as the same flames that consumed the hair tore through Eric who had just reappeared by his sister. Kelly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around her brother. The fire licked at their feet and grew, quickly engulfing them until nothing was left.

The sudden silence pressed in on his ears as he turned to Bobby. "Th-Thanks." Bobby nodded silently. "Help me get them in the car?" he asked the older man as he gestured to his father and brother. Bobby nodded again.

"Let's take 'em back to my place. I can patch 'em up for you."

-------------------------------------

_- A/N: FINALLY. Another chapter. And as promised, not a cliffhanger. :)_

_Wow... a few references to the boys' futures. Demonic gossip. More on that later. *mysterious grin* Tehe. Sorry... anyway. Please tell me what you think! Questions/Complaints/Whatever are welcome._

_Camp's over so I'll be updating more quickly now -- provided I get me some comments/reviews!_

_Man, I was missing writing this. Love!  
~aep _


	39. Contact

**39. Contact**

The Impala carved a path in the darkness, following after the gray '79 Pontiac that Bobby drove. Dean glanced into the rearview mirror to see John and Sam slumped in the backseat. He was growing impatient. They had already been on the road for hours and there were a few more to go before they would reach Bobby's house.

The sun had risen as they crossed the state line into South Dakota and within forty-five minutes Dean could finally see Singer's auto salvage yard. He wound the Impala past the rows of decrepit cars and onto Bobby's barren front yard. Together, Dean and Bobby carried first John and then Sam inside. They laid the two of them out on the dilapidated couches in Bobby's living room.

"You look like a mess. Why don't you go rest upstairs for a while? I can handle things down here," Bobby offered. His voice was gruff but caring. Dean was too tired to protest. "Third door down on the right is an empty guestroom," Bobby said as he leaned down and began to unravel the bloodstained shirt around John's head.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said again. "How'd you know that we needed help?"

"Diane Echolls."

"Who?"

"She's a psychic I know over in Virginia. She called me yesterday, completely frantic. I told her that I'd go save your asses. It was damn lucky I was working a job over in Indiana otherwise there's no way I would have made it in time."

"Good thing," Dean said. "How did she know --?"

"Look, you go get some rest and let me take care of your daddy and Sam here. We'll talk later, okay?" Bobby asked distractedly as he walked into the kitchen and began to fill a bucket with water.

"Sure." Dean nodded and made his way upstairs. He was desperately curious about Diane Echolls and how she had known about the dangerous predicament the Winchesters had found themselves in but he was so exhausted that he wasn't too bothered by having been dismissed by Bobby.

He crashed down onto the lumpy bed, arm across his face to block out the sun that was pouring in through the windows despite the thick curtains. He could hardly believe that it was finally over. The Wrights were gone. He wished he felt some sort of peace over their demise but he didn't. Even through the haze of fatigue he was still on edge. And Kelly's voice still rang in his head; cruel words aimed at him -- cruel but not untrue.

_"You have to let that aggression out so you can focus on the hunt and not those feelings that are hidden just beneath the surface. You need to find redemption and you think that hunting monsters is the way to do it. You can't redeem something that was never whole to begin with…."_

* * *

"How are they Bobby?" Dean asked quietly as he descended the stairs a few hours later.

"They'll be fine," Bobby said with a shrug. Dean looked over at his father. A fresh bandage had been wrapped around John's head and all the other visible cuts and bruises had been dressed as well. Dean's eyes drifted over to the other couch where his little brother was. The deepest cuts had been covered but dozens of little scratches were visible all over his face and arms.

"Do you think he'll have scars?" Dean asked in a whisper.

"Nah, he should be okay," Bobby assured him.

"Did either of them wake up?"

"Your daddy was up for a little while, not long though. He's concussed. Still, got off easy, considering," Bobby said as he studied John for a moment. He turned to Dean who was still standing at the base of the stairs. "Come sit down," he gestured to an old armchair by the unlit fireplace. Dean took a seat, his eyes still glued to his little brother. "Lemme get you something to eat," Bobby said as he shuffled from the room. Dean murmured an absentminded thanks as he continued to watch Sam.

Dean hated to see Sam so battered and vulnerable, especially knowing that Kelly and Eric had only gone after him so vehemently to hurt Dean. Sam shifted slightly in his sleep, a small frown creasing his face and furrowing his brow.

Dean hadn't even noticed Bobby walk back into the room with a plate of cold pizza. Bobby cleared his throat and Dean took the plate, giving a small nod of appreciation as he took a bite.

"So how did Diane know we were in trouble? Actually, how does she know us at all?" Dean asked as Bobby took a seat at the edge of the couch where Sam was sprawled.

"She doesn't know you."

"Then how --?"

"Don't ask me how it works, kid," Bobby said with a shrug. "I have to admit, it's weird. She's my niece, I've known her since she was a little girl and she's never had an episode like that. I wasn't there to see it but from how she described it and just how shaken she sounded… it must have been very intense."

"An episode?" Dean asked, leaning forward slightly in the armchair.

"Yeah, she can divine things from séances and the like but when there are emergencies the forces can't wait to go through proper channels." Bobby sighed at the perplexed look on Dean's face. "Whatever's out there in the ether that needs to make contact, to warn us about something, it goes through psychics. Seers have tools like rituals to open themselves up to spirits but sometimes the other side can't wait for the psychic to initiate contact."

"So what exactly are you saying, Bobby?"

"It's not like a genuine possession… but people like Diane can be overcome by a force that needs to be heard. Spirits can manifest images, sounds within a psychic. If you saw Diane when this was happening you'd probably think she was having a seizure. That's what I thought the first time. She was eight, scared the crap out of me."

"So she has episodes from time to time that look like seizures but are actually important messages from some higher plane?" Dean asked skeptically.

Bobby nodded. "That's pretty much it. Come on, Dean. Is it that hard to believe? You hunt the supernatural with your dad everyday."

"No, I believe you. It's just weird to think about. I'm used to killing werewolves not hearing about girls that have _psychic seizures_," Dean said as he swiped a hand over his face. Bobby nodded in understanding than turned at the movement behind him. Sam had finally woken up. He tried not to wince as he sat up and took in the sight of the messy room.

"Uh, i-is everything --?"

"Everything's fine. Bobby came to the rescue. Dad's gonna be okay and the Wrights are gone forever." Dean quickly explained. Sam took a moment to soak in the information.

"They're gone? Really gone?" Sammy asked. Dean nodded, smiling at the look of relief on his little brother's face.

The telephone rang and Bobby made his way to the kitchen to answer it. "Yes. Diane, everything's fine. I have them here." There was a pause as Bobby took in what Diane was telling him. "I'm sorry. You must have given her a heart attack. Do you think it's time to tell her? I mean it's been six years and I think Tara would understand if you explained it to her…"

_Tara?_ Dean thought. Hadn't she said that her partner was someone named Diane the last time he saw her? Tara lived in Virginia, as did this Diane Echolls. It seemed like more than coincidence.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked, mesmerized by his brother's pensive face.

"What? Oh, um, nothing really," Dean said with a shrug. Sam studied his big brother for a moment.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean waited a moment for Sam's reply. "Sam? What is it?"

"With everything that went down with the Wrights… It just feels like it's been a long time since we've really, I don't know, connected."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, hoping the conversation wasn't heading where he was afraid that it was.

"I miss you. And I know what we did was wrong and fucked up but --"

"This really isn't the time or the place," Dean cut him off quickly, glancing at John who was still asleep on the couch.

"It never is. Please Dean, can we go upstairs and talk?"

"I'd really rather not," Dean murmured. He could feel his baby brother's eyes on him. He kept his own gaze firmly on the dusty floor and hoped that Sam would drop the subject. As dangerous and terrifying dealing with the Wrights had been he almost appreciated the temporary distraction from his feelings about his relationship with Sam.

Sam stared wistfully at his brother, wishing he had some idea of what Dean was thinking. The cuts all over Sam's body stung but he almost didn't care; he was too consumed in his desire to feel close to Dean again, no matter the consequences.

---------------------------------------------

_Comments/Reviews = Love and Cookies. :) Wow, a short author's note for once!  
~aep _


	40. No Doubt

**40. No Doubt**

Bobby hung up the phone and walked back into the living room. The tension that had swelled in the room since he had been there was palpable.

"Everything alright?" Bobby asked tentatively. Dean nodded and Sam followed suit though he lacked any real conviction.

"Bobby, Where in Virginia does Diane live?" Dean asked.

"Dinwiddie," Bobby replied.

"Really? Then it is her. I know her ex, Tara." Dean said. "So Tara doesn't know about Diane's abilities?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, she doesn't know. They actually got back together but the secrecy has caused a lot of problems between them, it still is. Diane's just trying to protect her from our world but I think at this point that girl has a right to know." Bobby sighed quietly and sat back down on the edge of the couch Sam occupied.

"I'm gonna go see her. She sounds like she could use the support and my brother and his wife sure aren't the type to be there for their daughter, not once they found out she was gay anyway."

"Well, we'll get out of your hair," Dean said.

"No, you boys stick around. Take some time to recuperate. I would stay here with you but Diane sounded so upset --"

"We understand. We'll wait 'til Dad wakes up and then we'll head out." Dean said.

"That sounds fine," Bobby said with a nod as he stood.

"Bobby, thank you so much for your help. And thank Diane for us too." Sam said. Bobby smiled and nodded again.

"You boys need to take better care of yourself. It's okay to call and ask for help, you know. Don't let your daddy's pride cut you off from the world."

* * *

It had been a few hours since Bobby had left and Sam and Dean had barely spoken a word to each other, despite how desperately Sam wanted to talk. Their father stirred on the couch. He slowly opened his eyes. Sam and Dean both stood and made their way towards John.

"You alright?" Sam asked quietly. John nodded slowly. He winced as he sat up.

"Where's Bobby?" he asked.

"He had to go. Do you think you're well enough to travel?" Dean questioned.

"As long as you drive," John said simply.

Dean nodded, "Of course." Together the brothers helped their father up and made their way out to the car. They explained how Bobby had known they needed help during the car ride.

The sun was just setting and was blinding as it descended into the trees. Dean pulled into the parking lot of a new motel. He quickly paid for a room and returned to the car to help Sam with their father. John seemed slightly stronger as they headed to their room. Dean unlocked the door and flipped the light switch. It was a rather bare room with muddy brown walls and threadbare carpeting. The boys helped their father onto the first bed. John seemed to be struggling to fight off sleep but before long his eyes fell shut.

Sam sat on the edge of the other bed and watched as Dean took a seat at the small table at the other end of the room. Dean took a deep breath and laid his head down on his crossed arms. Sam stood and took the seat across from Dean who didn't bother to look up.

Sam sighed but remained silent. It took all his self control not to get up and pull his big brother into a hug. It had only been a few days since the relationship between the brothers had crossed over into something much more. Sam felt torn; he regretted the consequences of his actions and yet he couldn't help but want to do it again. He could see Dean's naked form in his mind's eye; he started to replay that night in his head. The kisses, the fingers brushing over smooth muscles, the way it felt to taste his brother. Sam pulled out of his reverie and just studied the way his brother's shoulders rose and fell with each breath.

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him and he wished that Sam would just leave him alone. He understood his little brother's need to make some kind of sense about what happened but Dean didn't want to deal with it. He didn't want to have to think about the boundaries they had smashed through and how wrong it was. Dean wasn't at all religious but still he knew beyond any doubt that what they had done was a sin.

-------------------------------------------

_Daaamn. Forty chapters already! Wow. Anyway, sorry this chapter's a bit short in comparison to others. But there's definitely more to come! Comments/Reviews = An Incredibly Happy Fanfic-Writing Geek-Girl. :D_

_~aep_


	41. Pulse

**41. Pulse**

Dean couldn't stand to be that close to his brother. He could still feel Sam's eyes on him. He stood from the table and walked outside, closing the door quietly behind him. He half-expected the door to open and Sammy to walk through but he didn't. Dean was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment. Dean almost wished he could just open up and talk about it but at the same time saying those words would be fully acknowledging it and he wasn't ready for that.

Sam sighed as he stood and pressed his hand to the door. He was so tired of his attempts to speak to his big brother to no avail. He resigned himself to never being able to speak about what happened. _Maybe it's better this way,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe given time, it'll be easier if we never really face it._ He mulled the thought over morosely as he rested his head against the door and ignored the tears that were threatening to spill.

"Sam, you okay?" John asked from the bed. Sam was startled by his father speaking and turned around to face him. The tears that he had managed to hold back fell at the concerned expression on his dad's face.

"Uh, y-yeah," Sam muttered, quickly wiping tears off of his face with the back of his hand. "I guess I'm just a little freaked out over everything that happened with the Wrights." He hoped his father would buy his excuse and not dig deeper. He didn't think he could put up a façade for much longer, hell, he wasn't convinced he was actually managing to at all.

"H-How are you feeling?" Sam asked his father. John shrugged and tried to sit up. "Dad, just rest," Sam said as he came to stand before his father and forced him back down onto the bed.

"Don't you tell me what to do," John scolded his son. He shrugged Sam's hands off of his shoulders but lied back down. He closed his eyes and growled quietly at the throbbing in his head. Sam watched him apprehensively but within a few minutes John seemed to have drifted back to sleep. Sam sighed and took a seat on the other bed, cringing as it creaked beneath him. He slowly lied back and closed his own eyes, willing sleep to take him over and let him forget, at least for a little while.

* * *

Dean found himself walking down the street towards downtown. The city streetlamps flickered on as he came close enough to hear the bustle of the city. He needed to clear his head but he knew there was no way to do that. The best he could do was dull the thoughts that were clawing at him. He scanned the storefronts and restaurants. His eyes finally fell to a neon sign that read "Good Fortunes Bar".

He whipped open the door and stepped inside only to realize he had entered a gay bar. Quite a few heads turned at his entrance. He could feel himself blushing as he quickly stepped back outside. It wasn't that he didn't find men attractive, it was just he didn't want to have to deal with them pawing at him.

He walked up and down a few blocks in search of another bar but he couldn't find one. He dejectedly (and desperately) made his way back to Good Fortunes. Once again his entrance drew many pairs of eyes his way. He tried to avoid their stares as he took a seat at the bar.

"What can I get you?" a young good-looking bartender with a tight t-shirt asked. He had a small nametag pinned to his chest: Troy.

"Whiskey for now," Dean muttered.

"Comin' right up, sweetie," Troy said with a flirtatious smile. Dean sighed and laid his head down on the counter in exasperation. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up warily to see a muscular man in his thirties. He was attractive with blue eyes and short blond hair.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"I already ordered, but thanks," Dean said, trying to be polite. Troy handed Dean his drink and he downed it in one gulp.

"How about a refill on me then?" the man asked. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"No. That's okay. It's been one of those days; I'm not looking to meet anyone tonight."

"Well, I'll be right over there if you change y--"

"Right," Dean said dismissively. He called back to the bartender for another drink. He was approached several more times but each time he shrugged them off like the first. Yet another man took a seat by him but just ordered his drink without even acknowledging Dean sitting there. Dean turned to look at the man curiously.

The man took a sip of the beer he had just ordered and seemed aware of Dean's eyes on him. He slowly turned to face him. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," Dean replied as he studied the young man before him. "I'm Dean."

"I'm Sean," he held out his hand to Dean who shook it, still studying him carefully. Sean looked no more than twenty-five and he was… beautiful. Dark skin, soft lips, strong cheekbones, big hazel eyes and luscious, brown hair that fell in his face.

"The DJ should be here soon. You wanna dance when they open up the floor?" Sean asked, pointing a finger to the back of the bar where an open doorway led to another room.

Dean knew that an hour ago he wouldn't have been taken by such a proposition but he had more than a couple of drinks in his system and there was something about Sean that made him want to be near him. Within a few minutes the thumping of a loud bass beat could be both heard and felt. Sean stood and took Dean's hand who followed willingly.

They walked through the doorway in back to a large room with strobe lights flashing and music pounding. Within a moment the whole room was packed and there was barely any space on the dance floor. Dean could feel his temperature rising in the mass of moving bodies. He felt Sean's hands on him, helping him out of his jacket and tossing it aside. Sean yanked his own shirt off and tucked it in his back pocket before sliding Dean's up and over his head. Sean slid his arms around Dean, hands lowering until they met with his ass. With a smile, he put the shirt in Dean's back pocket before giving his ass a squeeze.

A faster song came on and the crowd of dancing bodies moved accordingly. Dean allowed himself to be swept up in the feel of it. He wrapped his arms around Sean's neck and reveled in the feeling of the music and the muscles.

Their eyes locked and Dean was completely mesmerized as Sean's face came in closer to his. Their lips met.

-------------------------------------------

_Oh no! How far will Dean go?! Dun Dun Dun! I'm totally evil, I know._

_Can y'all tell that another TV show I love is Queer as Folk (the American version, I don't know the British one)? Anyway, the thought of Dean ending up in a gay bar entertained me greatly so I had to do it. Don't worry, more with Sam soon…ish!  
~aep _


	42. Homeless

**42. Homeless**

Their tongues battled for dominance as the pulse of the music continued to boom. Dean let his hands roam over Sean's glistening chest and enjoyed the feel of Sean's hands doing the same to him. Sean's hands inched lower until they were at Dean's belt. Sean broke the kiss and yelled above the music.

"Wait one sec!" Sean held up one finger before running to the far end of the room and snatching up Dean's jacket. "Come with me!" Dean smiled and wended his way across the dance floor behind Sean. Sean grabbed his own coat from a small room off to the side of the entrance. He slipped it on and pulled Dean outside with him. They walked together to the alley by the side of the bar. Sean pushed Dean against the brick wall and pressed his lips against Dean's.

Dean let his fingers wind through Sean's hair as he deepened the kiss. Sean pulled away after a moment. "D'you have a condom?" he asked huskily. Dean shook his head and watched their breath rise into the cold night air. Sean searched his pockets and fished a few out. He jammed all but one back in his pocket before ripping it open.

He knelt down and began to undo Dean's belt and jeans. Dean gasped quietly at the sudden cold air that hit him. He felt Sean's fingers deftly rolling the condom onto him before the comforting heat of Sean's mouth enveloped him. He shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the bricks.

Dean wound his fingers through Sean's thick hair as he came close to the edge. Moments later he came and through the blissful haze of the climax and alcohol streaming through his blood he saw one thing very clearly in his mind: Sam.

He covered his mouth to keep from gagging and pushed Sean off of him. He ripped the condom off and pulled his pants back on. Sean looked at him questioningly as he stood. Dean realized why he had been drawn to this man. Despite the fact that Sam's skin was much lighter than Sean's, the features were similar -- similar enough that Dean could picture Sam growing up to look almost exactly like Sean.

The realization sobered him instantly and without a word he ran from the alley, leaving Sean standing cold and alone. He started running back to the motel before realizing he couldn't face seeing his father or brother. He abruptly changed directions, remembering having seen a dingy motel on his unsuccessful hunt for a straight bar.

Dean checked himself into the cramped, filthy place with a fraudulent credit card. He had to pay by the hour but he didn't care. He only had one card left but he wasn't going to allow himself to worry about it getting maxed out. He just needed some place to be that was away from his family. His stomach turned sickeningly at mere the thought of them. The strong impulse to vomit had nothing to do with all the drinks he had had.

He took a seat in a chair in the corner of his room, not wanting to go near the small bed with all its various stains. He pressed his palms to his eyes as if he was trying to crush the image of his brother out of his mind.

He wanted to scream, to cry, to break things, wanted to hurt someone, to hurt himself but more than all that he wanted Sam. He wanted his Sammy desperately. The force of Dean's feelings hit him like a truck, now more than ever before.

"GODDAMMIT!" he screamed. He stood up and rushed to the tiny bathroom. He lifted up the grimy toilet lid and heaved into the bowl. He purged until there was nothing left, until his throat hurt. He flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out, spitting into the sink before burying his face in a towel and sobbing.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes and saw nothing. The room was pitch black. He squinted to make out the clock on the wall: two a.m. That gnawing sense of dread crawled through him again. The fear for his brother's safety was probably unfounded, he knew that but he couldn't help having that fear all the same.

He remembered the last time Dean had run off and checked himself into another room. Sam slowly stood from his bed and crept past his father, gingerly opening and closing the door behind him. The car was still parked out front. He made his way to the motel office and was greeted by a plump woman in her mid-fifties who had a kind smile despite how exhausted she looked.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked.

"Um, yes. I was wondering if the young man who checked in with my dad and me around six p.m. had ordered an extra room?"

"Let me just check the registry here," she said as she opened a large book and skimmed through a page or two. "Nope, no extra rooms were booked."

"Okay, well, thanks anyway," he said. She nodded and he walked out of the office. He headed back towards their room but stopped for a moment, seriously considering wandering around and trying to find another motel nearby where Dean might have gone. He decided against it, knowing just how furious John would be if he woke up to both of his sons missing. He knew now wasn't the time to try his father's patience.

Sam sighed and tiptoed back into the room, crawling under the covers of his bed and lying there unable to sleep until the light of dawn broke through the window blinds. He covered his face with his hands to block out the light. He hated feeling so helpless, constantly trapped in one hotel room or another while his father could come and go as he pleased and Dean who pretty much did the same thing. They moved from state to state constantly and yet Sam still felt as though he was trapped in one single place that he'd never be able to call home.

-----------------------------------------

_Poor Sammy. Comments, questions?  
~aep _


	43. Wishes

**43. Wishes**

"Where's your brother?" John asked as he shook Sam awake.

"Dunno," Sam muttered as he opened his eyes blearily. He looked up at the clock again to see it was eleven in the morning. "I'm sure he's fine. He, uh, he told me that he was going for a walk."

"When?"

"Um, earlier. This morning when you were asleep," Sam said, trying to cover for his brother.

"You're lying," John said.

"For someone with a concussion you seem acutely aware of everything that goes on, don't you?" Sam asked exasperatedly. John raised an eyebrow as he waited for his son to explain where Dean had gone.

"I think he's just shaken by the whole Kelly and Eric thing still. He probably just needs some time to himself to work it out." John seemed to accept this answer, having taken off to sort things out alone numerous times himself.

"I'm actually gonna take off for a little while too," John said as he slowly stood up.

"You can't drive. You fell on your head from like twenty feet up," Sam said worriedly.

"I thought I was 'acutely aware of everything that goes on'. I'll be fine. You need to stop contradicting me at every turn, Sam. It's not amusing." John said sternly.

"I'm not trying to be amus--"

"I'll be back late tonight, don't stay up. And stay in the room." And with that, Sam was left to watch furiously as his father strode out of the room. He listened to the purr of the Impala as it glided out of the motel parking lot.

"Fuck it," Sam whispered as he stood and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

So far he'd seen one motel but upon questioning the person at the front desk he was told that no one matching the description of his brother had checked in. He tried to remember the name Dean had on his credit card but couldn't. He walked on to the next motel a few blocks down set in a large brick building between a barber shop and a deli.

"Look, I'm about to bust at the seams, I have the never-ending shift! It's been twenty-three hours and counting! Yeah! Get your ass down here and take over!" the young man behind the desk shouted into a phone. He hung up abruptly and turned to look at Sam. "Yeah?" he snarled.

"I was wondering if my brother Dean checked in here. Short brown hair, leather jacket, six feet tall…"

"How old?"

"Twenty-one," Sam lied.

The young man cast a glance down at his sign-in book. "I think he's the guy in three-oh-seven. Elevator's broken," he said. Sam nodded and thanked him before running up the creaky staircase to the third floor. He rushed down the hall to room number 307. He paused, fist an inch away from the door. He unfurled his hand and pressed it softly to the peeling red paint on the door, putting his ear against it as well and listening intently.

Sam strained to hear something, anything. After a moment he heard Dean's voice speaking softly. A pang of jealousy shot through him as he wondered who Dean could be with in there. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to focus on discerning the quiet words Dean was speaking but he couldn't make them out. Sam was growing impatient and desperate. He just wanted to knock and beg to be let in but he knew he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too afraid of what (or who) he'd find if he got into that room. He took a deep breath and walked back down the stairs, trying to block out all the thoughts that were pressing in on him.

* * *

Dean threw the towel to the floor and walked out of the bathroom. He seized the chair that he had been sitting on earlier and threw it across the room. "Son of a bitch," he whispered as he sunk onto the bed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet from it. He searched through the bills until he found a small piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. He grabbed the phone and punched the number in.

"Hello?" a voice asked after three rings.

"H-Hi. Is that Tara?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she paused for a moment. "Wait, this is Dean, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I was hoping you had some time to talk." He hated admitting that he needed to talk but he knew he had to. And Tara was the only person he felt that he could turn to.

"Um, a little. What's going on?" she asked.

"I… you know what? Tell me what's going on with you."

"Dean, what is it?" she asked, sensing how upset he was. "Dean?"

"No, first tell me about you, please. What's going on with you and Diane?" He asked, genuinely curious (and hoping to hold off really getting into what was going on with him).

"Fine. Um, well, a lot has happened. I always knew she was hiding something from me, something big. And now she finally told me and I sort of wish she hadn't. It's just too insane. And what's even crazier is that I believe her," she said shakily.

"You mean --?"

"She's, she's a psychic. I understand if you don't believe m--"

"I do believe you. A family friend of ours is her uncle. She actually had a vision or something recently that helped my family." Dean confided.

"Wait, what? What happened?" she asked. Dean sighed and began to summarize the situation with the Wrights, going on to explain what his nomadic life was like because of hunting. Stunned silence met him after his explanation.

"It's, um, it's a lot to take in," Dean muttered.

"I-I can't believe it," she whispered. Another long pause before she spoke; "I mean, I'm open to the idea of the supernatural world existing but this is all so insane. I feel like I've been tossed into a fantasy novel or something."

Dean smiled at her reaction. "You're taking the news a lot better than most. How are you so understanding? About… everything?" he asked, thinking back to their previous conversations.

"I dunno. I believe in people. I can kinda sense when someone is telling the truth, sense what they're feeling and so I just… I don't know. I listen."

"Thank you for that," Dean whispered. "I mean I never, _never_ tell people what I'm really thinking or whatever but you… I can talk to you." Dean could barely believe how much he felt he could open up to Tara. It was still terrifying to admit aloud what emotions were taking a hold of him but speaking to her lifted some of the binding pressure pushing down on him from all sides.

"I'm glad. Now, what's going on with you besides… ghosts?" she asked. "How's your brother?" she prodded gently after a moment of silence. Dean took a deep breath and began to explain some of what he was going through though he still wasn't ready to fully admit just how serious and unflappable his love for his brother was.

Tara listened patiently until Dean trailed off, unable to continue speaking through his tight throat that signaled he was on the verge of tears. "You've gone through so much," she began softly, "I wish there was some way you could stop blaming yourself and just be happy. I wish your brother could too."

Dean didn't want to admit just how badly he wished for that too.

-----------------------------------------------

_*sigh* Anyway... Reviews/Comments = Crazy Wincesty Sex. No not really, not yet anyway. But comment anyway.  
~aep _


	44. Want

**44. Want**

Sam walked past shop windows on his way back to his motel. He bit his lip hard to keep from shouting out. He had no one to turn to, not his father, not his brother. There was no one else. He normally didn't dwell on it but in that moment he desperately wanted a mother who would hug him and tell him everything would be alright. He tried to picture Mary in his mind but couldn't. He only knew what she looked like from a few old photographs. He wondered what she had been like. John never talked about her and neither did Dean.

_Stop brooding,_ he told himself silently. He hated that he couldn't remember the last time he had been happy. That was a lie. He had been happy feeling his brother's lips against his own, when their hands would tenderly roam over each other's bodies. He cursed himself for letting his mind wander back to his brother. He knew he couldn't have Dean, shouldn't have Dean.

He pushed open the door to his room and flopped down on the nearest bed. He shoved his face into a pillow and screamed at the top of his lungs. He threw it aside and started rifling through his bag. He threw everything out in search for one thing. He found it tucked inside the old copy of The Crucible that he had at the bottom of the bag.

It was a picture of the four of them; Mary, John, Dean and himself. He stared at it. They all looked so happy. Even Sam who couldn't have been more than a few months old when the picture was taken looked content and peaceful in his beautiful mother's arms. Dean had a big grin on his chubby little face and John looked like he was in heaven surrounded by his lovely wife and children.

A normal family. What the hell happened?

* * *

Dean felt a bit calmer as he hung up the phone. He shut the curtains against the afternoon sun. He closed his eyes and lied back on the bed, letting sleep take him away. He shifted restlessly as he slept and woke up to the sound of a horn honking right outside the window. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Eleven?" he whispered. He had slept for almost twelve hours. He stood up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and looking into the mirror warily. A muscle in his clenched jaw pulsed. The relief from being able to talk to Tara had been only temporary. His anxiety and that acute sense of disgust at himself had returned. He turned away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. He paced aimlessly in the small motel room.

"Fuck," he murmured, furious that once again the only thing he could think about was Sam. "Why the hell are you obsessed with your kid brother? What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked himself as he ran his fingers through his short hair in frustration. He grabbed the room key off the nightstand and walked out.

Before he had time to really think about where he was going he found himself standing in front of the Good Fortunes Bar again. He shook his head but walked inside nonetheless. He ordered a beer from the bartender, a different one tonight though still young and handsome. He slapped some cash down on the bar and gulped down half of his beer within a minute.

A handsome man in his mid-forties with dark wavy hair approached Dean. "Why are you in such a hurry?" the man asked as he eyed Dean's drink. Dean wiped his mouth and shrugged. "I'm Tony," the man said extending a hand. Dean shook it but didn't speak.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," Tony said, trying to strike up some friendly conversation.

"Just passing through town," Dean said shortly. He took another sip of his beer and shifted on his barstool. Tony studied Dean thoughtfully for a moment.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm just looking for a good time, not a therapist," Dean snapped. He downed the rest of his beer and stalked off to the club room where the music had just started up. He stood in the corner as men filed in. He made his way towards a good-looking man in his early thirties with blond hair and a pierced ear. He grinned as he saw Dean walk towards him.

"Wanna dance?" Dean asked. The man nodded. Just like the night before it didn't take long for the room to become suffocating. The heat that was radiating from everyone almost made Dean lightheaded as the guy he had asked to dance began to grind up against him.

"What's your name?" Dean shouted through the din.

"Ben! You?"

"Dean!"

The mass of bodies jostled together to the beat blaring from the speakers. Dean let his hands travel across Ben's broad shoulders. Even through the noise and the crowd and the heat Sam was emblazoned in his mind. He grabbed Ben and kissed him violently, forcing all thoughts from his mind.

"Let's get outta here!" he yelled over the music when they had broken apart. Ben put his arms around Dean's waist and together the two made their way outside. The frozen December air swirled around them. Dean smiled as he studied Ben's face. He was attractive and the complete opposite of Sam; a thin Roman nose, stunningly pale blue eyes and thin rosy lips. Dean pinned Ben against the brick wall and forced his lips against Ben's again.

"Oh, no you don't," Ben murmured, turning them around so that Dean was trapped against the wall. "You wanna go to my place?" he whispered, breath rising into the air. It was more of a statement than an actual question. Dean nodded with a grin. "My car's up the block." They made their way to the blue sedan. Ben planted a kiss on Dean's neck as he started the ignition. They arrived at Ben's condo less than fifteen minutes later.

He jammed the key in the lock and opened the door, yanking Dean inside with a wide smile. Ben grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the bedroom. A huge bed covered with black satin stood in the center. Ben pushed Dean onto it, quickly jumping on it himself and straddling Dean. Within a minute their clothes were off and Ben was reaching into his nightstand for something. Dean heard a clink as Ben withdrew something from the drawer.

"Handcuffs?" Dean asked as he watched them swing from Ben's finger. Ben grinned widely and grabbed one of Dean's wrists. He didn't protest though he was slightly uneasy. Ben forced Dean onto his stomach and pulled his arms to the headboard, looping the cuffs around one of the wooden bars in the board. Ben shut the other handcuff around Dean's left wrist with a clink. Dean didn't particularly like the idea of being the submissive one in this situation but he had to admit that he was a little curious as to what it would be like.

He felt Ben's tongue trailing down from his shoulders to the small of his back. Ben reached into the nightstand again and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. Dean twisted his head around to see Ben slip the condom over his shaft and open the bottle, squeezing a generous amount of lubricant into his hand.

Ben slipped a finger inside of Dean, slowly moving it in and out before placing a second finger inside.

"Stop," Dean said.

Ben withdrew his fingers. "I'm just trying to make sure it won't hurt."

"I want it to. Just fuck me," Dean whispered.

"Have it your way."

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_Wow... I feel demented and kinky. And not in a good way. lol. Why do I do this to these poor boys?! Anyway... um.. uh.. *slowly walks away whistling awkwardly*  
REVIEWS/COMMENTS!  
~aep _


	45. Running Away

**45. Running Away**

The door swung open and John walked inside to see his son staring blankly at the infomercial that was running on the small television set.

"Sam, have you been just sitting here like this all day?" John asked, slightly taken aback by his son's glazed-over expression.

"I'm not allowed to leave the room, right?" Sam asked, still gazing at the TV screen. John didn't bother to reply as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it by the door. He walked over to the television and shut it off. Sam didn't protest; he hadn't really been watching it anyway. His mind was back at that seedy motel he knew Dean was staying at. He wished he had had the guts to bang on the door and demand to be let in. Instead, he just skulked off with millions of questions buzzing around in his head.

He couldn't stand the prospect of never being able to really talk to his brother again. He had tried to come to terms with it but he just couldn't. He loved Dean, he needed him. And not just because Sam was _in_ love with him but because he needed his big brother to be there for him.

"Where's Dean?" John asked, breaking through Sam's thoughts. Sam just shrugged. "Has he been here at all since I left?" Sam shook his head sheepishly. He didn't want Dean to get in trouble but he was tired of putting up a front for him. If Dean wanted to run away he had to take responsibility for the consequences of his actions. John grunted and grabbed up his coat again, slipping it on and walking out the door. _Probably to search for Dean,_ Sam mused.

Sam preferred to be alone so he didn't have to try to hide everything he was thinking but he couldn't help feeling abandoned by everyone that he cared about. He stood up and began to pace. He peeked through the curtains to see that the Impala had disappeared. He pulled on his jacket and left the room. Snow flurries danced in the cold wind and Sam shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. He walked all the way down to that tiny motel and shot up the stairs without a word to the person at the desk. He took the stairs two at a time and ran down the third floor hallway until he reached what he knew was Dean's room. He couldn't take it anymore. He banged on the door.

"Dean!" he yelled as he continued to bang on the door. There was no answer. He took a deep breath and listened intently for any sound within the room. He couldn't hear anything. He pounded on the door again, more out of anger and desperation than to gain entry. He kicked at the door then turned and slid down it, head in his hands.

_How much longer can he stay away?_ Sam wondered. _How much longer can I take?_

* * *

His body ached and he could see the shadows of bruises forming around his wrists from struggling against the handcuffs. Ben leaned over and unlocked the cuffs.

"You sure I didn't go too hard on you?" he asked.

"Yeah, no, that was fine." Dean replied, wincing as he sat up and grabbed his clothes from the floor. "Could you give me a ride to the motel I'm staying at?" he asked as he pulled his clothes on. Ben nodded and got dressed as well.

"Thanks again," Dean said as he stepped out of the car. Ben smiled and took off once Dean had slammed the car door shut. He pulled his room key out and made to go inside the motel when a car horn blared loudly from just behind him. He turned to see the Impala idling at the curb. He jammed the key back in his pocket and walked towards the car. He opened the passenger side door and sat down beside his father.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" John fumed. Dean remained silent, knowing any excuses he made would only incense his father further. "You can't run off without telling anyone where you're going. Your brother and I have been worrying about you. Dean, you know better."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry," Dean muttered, staring at his knees.

"You better be more than sorry. Don't you ever do this again!" John could no longer contain his anger and his shouting was deafening. Dean sat there silently as his father started driving. "Whose car were you in just now?" John asked after a moment.

"N-No one, sir," Dean said quickly. John seemed too angry to pursue the topic. His voice was already hoarse from the few shouts he had hurled at his son.

"Get inside and stay there," John growled as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel they had rented a room from as a family. Dean stepped out of the car, barely having time to shut the door before John zoomed off. Dean slowly made his way to their motel room, dreading entering it with each step he took.

Sam had just walked back to their motel a half hour ago. He had managed to pull himself up off the floor at the motel downtown and walk back here. He sat in the dark room dejectedly, pained thoughts still raging through his mind. He heard footsteps and the rattle of a key before the door opened. He didn't bother to look up, assuming it was only his father.

Dean stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, watching his little brother sitting in the middle of the far bed with his head pressed firmly against his knees. Dean took a deep breath before closing the door behind him. Sam finally looked up, stunned to see his big brother standing before him. Neither said a word as they stared at each other. Sam opened his mouth but Dean cut him off before he could speak.

"I'm only back because Dad tracked me down and brought me here," Dean said more coldly than he intended. Sam nodded morosely. He shifted on the bed but refrained from standing and grabbing his brother in a hug. Silence settled over the two of them again. It dragged on moment after moment until neither could bare it any longer.

"I can't stand this," Dean muttered as he walked out the door and made his way back downtown. It was the first time he could remember deliberately disobeying his father's orders. Sam ran and stood in the doorway, watching as his brother walked away yet again.

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_Daaamn, I'm dragging this out to the point where I'm annoying myself. The boys need to have a chick-flick moment. Many moments... Reviews=Updates so fingers, start a'typin'!  
~aep _


	46. Hidden

**46. Hidden**

Sam screamed as he slammed the door shut. "Fuck," he whispered after a moment. He was so sick of chasing after his brother, sick of _wanting_ to chase after him. Sam hated that through all of this he still needed his brother so much even though he knew Dean would never be there for him when he needed him.

* * *

Dean walked the familiar path downtown, going past his motel absentmindedly. He turned back and went inside, climbing the stairs slowly and trying to ignore the guilt boiling inside him. It wasn't just his feelings for his brother that clawed at him anymore but how much he knew his brother needed him and yet he refused to acknowledge Sam's pain and anger, only focusing on his own.

He crashed down onto the bed and willed himself into a dreamless sleep. He woke the next day as the sun was setting, the light fading from the room until it was plunged into darkness. His body pulled him into the mindless routine of walking down to the club where the music had started earlier than usual. He was drawn to that thumping bass, bypassing the bar altogether and heading to the dance floor. The room was already packed and he slipped into the gyrating crowd with ease.

Dean grabbed the wrist of a dark-haired young man and pulled him close. "Come with me," he said into the guy's ear. The man's big blue eyes sparkled as he smiled and nodded, following Dean out of the bar.

"What's your name, handsome?" the man asked as Dean pulled him into the alley.

"It doesn't matter," Dean muttered, hand sliding into the man's pocket and closing around the condom he found there. He smashed his lips against the man's then turned him around roughly and pushed him against the cold bricks. He reached his hands around to the man's front and quickly undid his jeans, sliding them down just far enough to reveal his ass. He slipped his own jeans down and slid the condom on, positioning himself and pushing into the man who moaned throatily.

He pushed in and out at a rushed pace, slamming the man hard against the wall. "Oh, yeah. L-Like that," the man groaned out.

"Shut up!" Dean growled as he continued to shove into him. He had taken some odd form of comfort in the pain that Ben had caused him the previous night but he preferred this; an aggressive dance that _he_ was in control of.

Dean shut his eyes tightly and tried to allow his mind to become numb and unthinking, unfeeling. He heard the footsteps behind him but barely registered it until a heavy blow smashed into the back of his head. He was ripped away from the man and shoved to the ground. He looked up, stunned to see four drunken men, not much older than he was. Though obviously not functioning well from the amount of alcohol that was in their system, they still posed a very real threat.

One had a heavy chain swinging from his hands and another had a baseball bat. It took Dean's eyes a moment to properly focus after the shock of the hit. He saw red smeared on the bat. He gingerly felt the back of his head, his hair was damp with sweat and blood but he didn't seem to be bleeding too badly.

"Fuckin' faggots!" one of the attackers shouted. The group split in two; the man with the bat and his accomplice leered above Dean who was still stunned and the other two men lunged for the guy Dean had pulled out of the club. Hard kicks landed in his sides as the bat swung high up into the air before crashing down. Dean twisted, just narrowly avoiding making contact with the wood. He managed to scramble to his feet, ducking between the two men. In their intoxicated state, they weren't fast enough to anticipate Dean's movements. He pulled a knife from his boot and quickly jabbed it into his attackers' gut, one after the other. They fell to the ground, clutching their stomachs. He knew the wounds wouldn't kill them but they were enough to incapacitate them for the moment.

Dean turned from them and plunged the small blade into the backs of two other assailants in quick succession. They both stumbled backwards, away from the bleeding body on the ground. Dean jammed the knife back into his shoe and helped the man up, supporting most of his weight and rushing him out of the alley.

"You okay?" Dean asked hurriedly as he pulled the guy up the few steps into Good Fortunes. He opened the door for him and they stepped inside. The man spit blood from his mouth and nodded. Dean surveyed him quickly; one eye was already bruised shut, his lip was split open and he carried himself like he maybe had a few cracked ribs. "Go inside, call 9-1-1," Dean said before opening the club door and tearing off down the street.

He ran through the dank motel lobby and up the steps until he had crashed through his room door and locked it behind him. He set himself down on the bed, trying to stop shaking.

"Oh God," he whispered.

* * *

"Look, I really need to see my brother," Sam told the girl at the front desk. (He had just come back downstairs after working up the courage to knock on Dean's door, but Dean wasn't in.)

She shook her head. "I can't give out keys to visitors. If you wanna pay for a roo--"

"No, I need to get into my brother's room. It's an emergency," Sam begged. He had lost all self-restraint at this point. That aching need to see and speak to his brother was burning his insides. "Look, we were supposed to meet last night and he never showed. He's got a drug problem, for all I know he could've overdosed or --" he lied desperately.

"Alright, alright!" she said quickly, holding up her hands for him to stop. She pulled a key out from under her desk and held it out to him. "We _really_ don't need the cops barging in and doing another drug bust here so just… keep things quiet." She hissed. Sam nodded fervently, grabbing the key and running upstairs.

Sam banged on the door once more before shoving the key in the lock and opening the door. He looked around the small empty room, stepping inside quietly. He let his fingers trace the outline of the bed, walking all the way around it before sitting down on the edge. He sighed and wished his brother would come back soon. _Dean coming back here isn't really the problem, it's him staying once he sees me here,_ Sam thought sadly.

He stood and paced the room for a moment before going into the tiny bathroom and splashing freezing water on his face. He could hear running footsteps in the hall and quickly turned the faucet off and the light as well, listening intently as the steps grew closer. He pushed the bathroom door, leaving it only a crack open as he listened to the jangle of keys outside the room.

Sam held his breath as he watched the figure of his older brother enter the room and sit down on the bed. Dean looked incredibly upset, he was shaking from head to foot. Sam wanted to rush out and comfort his big brother but he stopped himself. He stood stock still, watching from his hidden place behind the bathroom door.

"Oh God," Dean whispered.

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_Back to a little action, though not of the supernatural variety. Anyway… next chapter soon, and yes, expect a real confrontation between the boys -- Finally!  
You know what to do! *cough* Comment *cough*  
~aep _


	47. Hazel

**47. Hazel**

_Jesus Christ! How the hell did my behavior spin so far out of control? I just stabbed four_ humans. _Despicable humans but still…_ Dean thought as he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair. "Son of a bitch," he whispered, his throat constricting more and more with each passing second. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He slammed them shut furiously and willed himself to stop crying.

It was the first time he'd been in some violent altercation since finally destroying the Wrights. And while the gay bashers were obviously anything but supernatural, the shock and adrenaline he had suddenly felt was a shock to the system. He tried to take in a deep breath but couldn't.

Sam looked on from the crack in the door. He was dying to know what had Dean so shaken up. He was dying to somehow make it better for his big brother. He couldn't stand hiding out anymore, he pulled the door all the way open.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean said again, completely taken aback by his brother's sudden appearance. He made to stand up but was shocked even further by Sam's yell.

"Goddammit, Dean! Stop! Just stop! I can't take this anymore. You're being such a coward. You've gotta stop running from me!" Sam could barely believe the words that were falling from his lips but finally saying what he'd been lamenting over was so cathartic that a grin actually broke out over his face for a second.

"I-I, uh --" Dean stuttered, but remained seated. "W-Why are you smiling?" he asked.

"Because I've been needing to say this for a _while_ now! So just shut up and listen, okay?" Sam took a deep breath and walked towards his brother who recoiled slightly. "Look, I get why you've been running away from this, us -- whatever the hell you wanna call it -- but it hasn't solved a damn thing. I've been stuck in that damn motel room for the past couple of days, not able to get my mind off of you and just praying that you'd finally come back and stop hiding from me."

"I'm not hiding," Dean said defiantly, though he knew that that was exactly what he'd been doing.

"Yes you are!" Sam said loudly, his voice ringing in the small room.

"Fine. I've been running and hiding. Look, I know I have but you don't understand --"

Sam cut him off. "The guilt you feel, the disgust, the need to protect me from the perversity of your feelings?" Dean stared widely into his little brother's eyes. "Trust me, I've had enough time alone to think over, to _obsess_ about how you've been feeling. And a part of me feels the same way, Dean! But, but there's still that other part that can't let go!"

"But even if a part of me still wants you too, you know we can't. Hell, you just listed practically all the reasons why we can't do this!" Dean yelled back.

"Stop trying to be heroic and noble for my sake, because you're not pulling it off. You're just afraid of the whole situation and that's why you've been pulling away!" Sam shouted. Now that he was finally speaking his mind he couldn't stop.

"Yeah, Sam, I am afraid! But with good reason -- this isn't something that I can fight and kill this is… burning inside of me all the time! I fucking felt like I've been cheating on you when I was with _every single_ --" he stopped short, ashamed to admit the string of one-night stands that had been his pathetic attempt to forget his baby brother. But from the crushed look on Sam's face Dean knew that Sam realized what he had been about to say.

"So, so all these nights you've been off somewhere… y-you were with someone else?" Sam asked though he already knew the answer. Dean stared down at the floor, not wanting to look in his brother's eyes, eyes that were now swimming with tears. Sam was left speechless again.

"I-I'm sorry," Dean whispered earnestly, still avoiding his brother's gaze. Sudden anger flared within him, "But I shouldn't have to be sorry. I mean you're my brother for Chrissakes!" He fell silent, regretting his words as he heard Sam sniffle. "I'm sorry," he muttered again.

Sam ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and tried desperately not to cry. He knew Dean was right; he shouldn't feel so betrayed to know his brother had been running from him and into the arms of some strangers. He bit down on his lip hard to stop it from quivering. After a moment he gave up and let out a small sob, bending down and finally locking Dean's eyes with his. They stared into the blazing hazel of each other's eyes, completely silent for moments.

Dean felt his gaze slowly drifting down, mesmerized by those sweet lips, chapped from December air. He looked away, that irrepressible guilt rising in his throat like bile. "God," he whispered in frustration. He wanted so badly to kiss Sam, but didn't dare do it. He had already taken such advantage of his baby brother and what almost felt worse was this thought that he didn't deserve to kiss Sam because of how he had been kissing those strangers. He shook his head trying to stop thinking of what he'd done and how much he felt like he had betrayed the boy in front of him.

Sam watched as Dean chewed on his bottom lip to the point that within a moment they looked raw and painful. "Stop," Sam whispered, placing his fingertips against Dean's mouth. That simple, intimate touch shot through the both of them like an electric spark. Sam pulled his hand away quickly, startled by the shock that had literally shaken his body.

Their eyes met again and within a second their lips collided, hard and hungry.

--------------------------------------------

_Finally! *does a little happy dance* Yay for kissies! Comment/Review. I think y'all have been waiting for this for far too long. :)_

_Oh, and there may be a debate about what colors their eyes are but I stick with hazel because it's an ever-changing eye color. Every time I see Jared Padalecki or Jensen Ackles it looks like they have a slightly different color so.. *shrug* don't complain about the hazel. lol._

_And sorry for the delay -- FF was doing a system upgrade so I couldn't post this immediately. :S  
_

_~aep _


	48. Peace

**48. Peace**

The raging thoughts that had plagued them both over the past days were finally assuaged. They were just lost in the moment, the feel of their lips pressed together and their fingers laced. They were caught in the heat of their bodies so close; the scent and taste and feel. Both Sam and Dean had missed the contact even more than either had fully realized.

Their hands moved instinctually to the other's shirt. Their lips broke apart long enough for Dean to swiftly pull Sam's shirt off and Sam quickly yanked Dean's up over his head. Their mouths met again, tongues venturing forth and swirling around, tasting each other. Dean let his fingers roam over Sam's bare chest, slowly moving lower until he had reached his belt. He unbuckled it and flung it aside, quickly pulling Sam's jeans off as well. Sam moaned excitedly, deepening the kiss and letting his own hands wander over Dean until they made their way to his pants. Within another minute all of their clothes were strewn across the carpet.

Their naked bodies pressed together, falling into each other's contours. It felt good, it felt right. Dean slowly pushed Sam down onto the bed and lied down next to him as he continued to kiss him. Sam's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed into the kiss. Dean's lips broke from Sam's, making the younger man whimper slightly. Dean swung a leg over Sam's hip to lie on top of him. Their lips met again, hands exploring and pulses racing. Doubt, guilt, anger, pain all erased by love and lust.

"I need you," Sam whispered against his brother's lips. "Don't run away again." Dean pressed his lips more firmly to his baby brother's, a silent answer wrapped in the kiss -- an assurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him in even closer. Sam suddenly felt Dean's hair -- sticky with something that wasn't sweat. "Wha--?" he asked as he pulled back his hand and looked at the coppery blood on his fingertips. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean muttered, trying to capture his brother's lips with his again.

"No, you're not. You're bleeding. Bleeding constitutes as 'not fine'," Sam said worriedly.

"Sam, don't worry about it," Dean said, putting a finger to Sam's lips to stop him from speaking. Sammy pushed Dean off of him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and studied the back of Dean's head.

"What happened?" he asked concernedly.

"I hit my head," Dean answered with a shrug. Before Sam could inquire further, Dean's lips were pressed to his again. He finally yielded and allowed Dean to push him backwards into the shower stall. Dean had one arm looped around Sam's waist while the other reached for the knob behind him. He twisted it until water poured down on the two of them. They both froze as the cold water pelted them but before long it had heated up and steam began to rise and caress their bodies.

Sam's fingers curled up into Dean's hair, gently massaging his scalp and letting the water work its way through, washing the blood away. Dean pulled Sam's hands away, holding them in his own. Though he was a good four years younger, Dean was surprised to see that Sam's hands were actually slightly larger than his own. He was getting tall too, just a few inches shorter than Dean now.

Once again, Dean found himself staring into those big beautiful eyes with that indescribable color that matched his own. Sam stared back, mesmerized by the droplets of water clinging to Dean's long lashes. Water rolled down their faces like rain as they kissed again; lips dancing together, soft and warm, gentle and playful.

Sam broke away reluctantly, not wanting to forget the feel of those lips on his as he turned himself around and pulled Dean's arms around him tight. Their bodies fit perfectly together, interlocking like they were created just for that. Sam shuddered under the feather-light kisses Dean was lacing down his neck and back. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the sensations; Dean's lips and hands traveling down his back, tracing the lines and curves until they stopped hesitantly….

"What?" Sam asked after a moment, opening his eyes and turning back to see why Dean had stopped.

"I, um… Are you, are you ready for…?" Dean left the question hanging gently. Sam smiled and nodded, placing a quick kiss on Dean's lips before turning back around. Dean buried his forehead in Sam's neck and let his fingers explore the smooth curve of Sam's ass. Slowly, Dean let one finger enter Sammy who gasped slightly. The hot ring of muscle tightened around Dean's finger, making him hard instantly. He pulled his finger out then slid it back in slowly. His other hand traveled down Sam's chest and stomach to the soft curls of hair below.

Sam moaned as Dean toyed with him, fingers roaming to all the right places. He gasped again as he felt Dean slip a second finger inside of him. He pushed himself hard against Dean, wanting more. The older boy quickly obliged, pushing a third finger inside of Sam. Sam's insides were crawling with nervous excitement and anticipation.

"That's enough," Sam whispered. Dean withdrew his fingers and positioned himself to enter Sam.

"You sure?" he whispered huskily as the hot water continued to rain down on them. Sam nodded, grabbing one of Dean's hands and holding it tightly. Dean pushed in slowly, afraid of hurting his baby brother. "Is this okay?" he asked gently. Sam moaned his approval, squeezing Dean's hand more tightly, urging him on. Dean moved slowly and gently in and out of Sam. They both stood entranced by the movement and sensations that sent tingles up their spines.

"H-Harder," Sam whispered softly. Dean obeyed, pushing in further and reveling at the feel of Sam's warmth enveloping him. He began to speed up until the two moved together at a dizzying pace. Dean was shoving into Sam now, abandoning caution and loving the moans issuing from deep within Sam's throat. Sam gasped and groaned as he felt Dean hit that spot that sent shivers through him; over and over again until they were both swimming in the ecstasy of those motions.

Dean could feel his temperature rising, his blood pumping through his veins; he was close. Sam could feel it too; he tightened his muscles around Dean's cock, wanting to pull him over the edge. Dean slammed into his brother, pressing him hard against the wall and kissing his neck.

"I-I wanna feel you come inside of me," Sam whispered, listening intently to his brother's ragged breathing. Those words were the final straw and Dean moaned as he came hard, bliss flowing through him and into Sam. He staggered backwards, his knees weak and his heart racing. Sam moved with him, gripping his brother's hands close against his chest as they almost fell. Dean pulled out and turned Sam around, pressing his lips against his little brother's. They fell to their knees. Dean could feel his heart begin to slow, returning to a regular rhythm. He hugged Sam close to him, pulling him down to lie on top of him in the tub.

Dean could feel Sam's cock pressing into his thigh, he was still hard. "You didn't c--"

"Don't worry 'bout me right now," Sam murmured, barely able to hear over the blood that was still pumping through him at a crazy pace. He laid his head down on Dean's chest. Dean smiled and shook his head, shifting the two of them in the small tub until he was on top of Sam. He kissed his way down Sam's chest slowly until he reached his cock, glistening with water and pre-come.

He closed his eyes and slid his tongue from the base of Sam's cock to the tip at a torturously slow pace. Sam shivered at the sensation of Dean's tongue swirling over his tip. He gasped as the heat of his big brother's lips slid down over his length until Dean's mouth enveloped him completely. Dean loved the tremors that were shaking his brother's entire body. He gently sucked at Sam's throbbing cock, tongue dancing around it, tasting and teasing. Dean moved up until his lips were barely touching Sam's tip. Sam groaned and clawed at Dean's back as he begged him for more. Dean obliged, taking his brother fully into his mouth again and sucking slowly.

"Please," Sammy moaned out, "faster." Once again Dean released Sam, enjoying Sam's whimpers that pleaded for more contact. He finally stopped torturing the boy, sliding his mouth back over Sam's cock. Within another minute Sam couldn't take anymore and came, his cream pumping into Dean's mouth. Dean savored the salty taste for a moment before swallowing. He swirled his tongue over Sam's sensitive tip one last time before moving up to kiss him hard on the lips.

Sam could taste himself on Dean's tongue and he let his eyes slip shut happily. He felt Dean's strong arms wrap around him and hold him close. The warmth of the water that still fell on them and their bodies pressed together was so soothing that the two were asleep before long.

* * *

Dean woke as the water that poured down on them grew colder. He turned around and switched the water off before pressing his body against Sam's again. He felt his little brother stir, eyes slowly opening and carefully studying him.

"Did we really…?" Sam whispered, barely wanting to let himself believe it. Dean nodded. Sam watched his brother's face intently, trying to discern his expression. "What do you feel?" he asked anxiously.

"I… happy. I feel happy," Dean replied thoughtfully, surprised to realize that the guilt that always seemed to gnaw at him had disappeared. "You?" he asked. Sam nodded, a beautiful smile spreading across his lips. They both felt so free, they had finally truly given in and fallen into each other. The pain they had both expected from that fall hadn't come, only a sense of peace.

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_Oh my God…. That was… I don't even know. So scary to write. I'm not sure that I'm happy with it but I hope you guys liked it. Well, uh… please comment and, um, yeah. *blushes*  
~aep _


	49. Suspicion

**49. Suspicion**

A loud banging on the door startled the two of them. Dean ran to the door as he frantically pulled on his jeans. He stared through the peephole to see his father standing there.

"Dean, open the damn door!" John called. Dean stepped away from the door, grabbing the rest of the clothes off the floor and chucking some of them to Sam. "Dean, open this door right now!" John yelled. He sounded about ready to knock it down.

"Hang on!" Dean called, trying to stall long enough to let them finish dressing. He caught his little brother's eye who nodded as he finished pulling his shirt down. Dean walked towards the door apprehensively, opening it to reveal their furious father.

"You disobeyed a direct order! What's gotten into you, Dean?" John asked, striding into the room, surprised to see a guilty-looking Sam standing by the bed. John looked them both over, eyes lingering on their wet hair and pink cheeks.

"What the hell's going on here?" he whispered, gut writhing with suspicion.

"Uh, i-it's my fault. I left and Sam went after me --"

"That doesn't explain why you two would look like you've been living out of this motel room together," John seethed.

"N-No sir, it's --" Sam began to mutter.

"I got into a fight and there were cops outside so we decided to wait it out," Dean explained, figuring partial truths were the best defense in their current situation. Sam tried not to look surprised. He could feel his father's eyes on him and cursed the color he knew was rising in his cheeks.

John continued to study the two closely with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he tried to ignore. "What fight?" he asked.

"I was walking and a couple guys jumped me. I wasn't expecting it and I panicked," Dean said vaguely.

"You panicked. What does that mean?"

"It was four against one and all I had was a knife so I used it," Dean muttered.

"What were they?" John asked.

"Human," Dean murmured.

"Dean, you've gotta be kidding me! Your behavior has spun _completely_ out of control --"

"I know, I'm sorr--"

"Don't. Don't apologize to me. We have to get the hell outta dodge. There's a case a few states over that needs to be dealt with anyway. Get your shit together and let's go," John said harshly, leaving the two standing stock still in the small room.

* * *

Sam could feel his skin crawling each time his father glanced at him in the rear view mirror. He had to suspect something but when was he going to confront them with it? Dean kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead. It had only been an hour or two on the road but the terse silence made it feel like so much more. Once again Dean found himself asking his father about the case just to break through the stifling quiet.

"The werewolves' hunting ground from a few months back has seen a slew of new deaths. Jim thinks it's a resurgence in the wolf population. I told him we'd go back." John muttered matter-of-factly. He switched the radio on, a clear sign he didn't want to continue a conversation with his son.

The rest of the car ride was more deafening silence broken only by the quiet hum of the radio. John checked them into the motel, a different one from the last they had occupied in town.

"Dean, you're coming with me," John began as he opened the room door, "Sam, you are not to leave this room under _any_ circumstances. Am I making myself clear?" John asked threateningly. Sam nodded, avoiding his father's gaze. "Dean, let's go."

---------------------------------------------------

_Sorry if the updates start coming a little more slowly. I really need to focus on my studies now but I'll definitely keep working and posting this for y'all.  
Love = Chocolate + Comments.  
~aep _


	50. No Denial

**50. No Denial**

Dean could hear a low growl coming from somewhere behind him in the dark alley. He spun around with his gun held high and peered into the darkness. He took a few steps forward, wanting to draw the creature out. Sure enough, the werewolf lunged out of the shadows, moving so quickly that Dean didn't have time to react. A young man -- dark eyes and wild sandy hair -- pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. Dean slammed his gun into the side of its head and scrambled out from underneath it. The werewolf lunged again but this time Dean was ready. He fired a shot straight into the wolf's heart and it was dead before it even hit the ground.

Dean looked around, unable to see his father in the gloom. "Dad?" he called quietly. He watched as another figure ran towards him from the other end of the alley. He squinted at the figure as it staggered nearer.

"This way," John said as he arrived by his son's side, a gash in his cheek and his clothing clawed at. He glanced down at the body of the werewolf Dean had just killed before speaking again. "I just took two out and there are more coming." Dean nodded and followed after his dad.

"Why the hell are there so many here? Normally we hear of like one or two cases a year. What is this?" Dean panted, running by his father's side.

"I don't know, but I think there's a bigger picture here. We're out cutting off the limbs of the beast when we should be going for the heart. I think there must be someone recruiting."

"Recruiting?" Dean asked skeptically. "But when the human transforms into the wolf their base instincts take over. They couldn't be thinking in an organized way like that."

"True, but what other explanation is there?"

"Werewolves Anonymous convention?" Dean asked jokingly. His father glared at him and they ran the rest of the way in silence.

They stopped in a deserted backstreet where they came upon the bodies of the two wolves John had taken down. They stood in silence, trying desperately to see or hear anything. Though the full moon was high in the sky it barely cast any light down upon them.

John gestured for Dean to head down to the other end of the street while he moved in the opposite direction. They set off, walking with such stealth that it was clear why these two men were called hunters.

Dean cursed the overhanging snow-laden trees that were growing thicker and casting shadows as he moved down the street, obstructing even the little light that the moon shed. He was growing uneasy, he felt eyes on him but nothing came forth to reveal itself. "Here wolfy, wolfy, wolfy," Dean muttered in a sing-song voice as he continued to walk slowly in the darkness.

* * *

Sam paced the room nervously. The last time they had come to this town to hunt werewolves they had all ended up in the hospital. _They can handle themselves, you know that. Quit worrying,_ Sam told himself.

He walked over to the window, looking through the curtain as if hoping his father and brother would appear before his eyes. He felt so restless but it was more than just worrying about his family on their hunt, it was finally being with Dean and the repercussions of it.

It had been amazing, even more wonderful than any of his dreams. It had been _real_, passionate, tender, loving. Dean had finally let go and allowed himself to be consumed in the desire that had been writhing in both of them. Sam shut his eyes, remembering the smile on Dean's face when he had said that he was happy. Sammy had never seen his brother smile like that; peace and bliss etched into every feature of his face. Sam knew in that moment that Dean hadn't regretted it. A small smile crossed his lips at that thought but it quickly disappeared as a seed of doubt took hold of him. _What if Dean does regret it now that he's had the time to think over what we really did?_ He pushed the thought from his mind, only to have it replaced by another unpleasant question. How much did their father suspect?

* * *

John tensed as he heard the crunch of snow from behind him. He spun around, gripping his gun tightly and saw a woman limping towards him. He ran to her as she collapsed to the frozen ground.

"Are you alright?" he asked, taking in the sight of her ripped clothes and cuts. She struggled to her feet and grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the darkness. She grabbed hold of John, claws ripping through his coat and digging into his skin. He tried to pull away but the werewolf's grip was too tight. He watched in horror as her teeth moved closer and closer to him. He jammed his knee up into her stomach as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of her and loosening her grip. He broke away from her and aimed his gun directly at her heart.

The shot rang out and she fell to her knees, blood dribbling down her shirt as she collapsed. Within a moment the thin layer of snow beneath her was stained red. John ran after his son.

"Dean!" he called as he closed in on him. Dean swung around, looking questioningly at his panting father. "We have to regroup. We're done hunting for tonight, come on."

They slammed the car doors and John jammed the key into the ignition. "Dad, what's going on?" Dean asked worriedly.

"This isn't a normal werewolf case. They're not running on pure instinct, they're using logic. Don't ask me how. One of them was pretending to be a victim but when I got closer she attacked."

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered in shock. "What are we gonna do?" John shrugged, his eyes set firmly on the road. "Dad, I know you like to work solo but I think we should get backup on this." John nodded again.

"I know," he murmured as he pulled into the motel parking lot. He parked and turned the car off. Dean made to get out but John said, "Wait."

"What?" Dean asked apprehensively. He knew by the tone of his father's voice that what was coming next had nothing to do with the case.

"You and your brother…" John said through clenched teeth, finally breaching the subject that had been boiling inside of him. Dean felt his heart sink in his chest. He took a deep breath and waited for his father to continue. "What exactly is going on between you two?" John waited for his son to respond but Dean couldn't speak. "Dean! Goddammit, tell me."

"He's my brother, Dad," Dean whispered, eyes looking anywhere but at his father.

"But there's more between you two than…" John began. His son's silence felt like a confirmation of all his fears and suspicions.

"Dad, please," Dean said so quietly that John almost didn't hear him.

"_Please_?" John said in disbelief. "First I find you two in bed. Then I find the both of you in some little motel room you rented out without my knowledge or consent. And if that wasn't enough evidence… I can't pretend that I don't see the way the two of you look at each other --"

"Dad, just stop, please," Dean begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"It's all true, isn't it?" John boomed, grabbing the front of Dean's coat and shaking him roughly. "Isn't it?!"

Tears were streaming down Dean's face now and he couldn't stop them. "How the hell could you do this to him?! He's fourteen for chrissakes! He's your goddamn brother! What the hell is wrong with you?" his father shouted.

"I-I don't know," Dean whispered.

-----------------------------------------------

_Wow, writing that last line made me tear up. Is that a little pathetic? lol. Also; Daaaamn. I can't believe we're up to fifty chapters now!_

_But anyway, just saw the season 5 premiere this morning; a total roller coaster ride of emotions. No joke. I was freaking out in just about every way possible._

_For those of you in other countries [or just don't have cable like me] who have to wait months for the new season to start check out this site (new episodes are posted less than a day after they air in the U.S.): ForTheWinchester [dot] Webs [dot] Com._

_As always, please review!_

_~aep_


	51. Focus

**51. Focus**

John sat there seething in the driver's seat. The fact of the matter was that he was angrier with himself than with his children. How could he have let that happen? How could he have let his sons enter into such a sick, perverse relationship with each other?

Dean had no idea what to say. There wasn't really anything to say. He couldn't keep denying it when it was so apparent that his father had fully realized the nature of his feelings for his little brother.

"You don't know?" John whispered in disbelief. "He's a child!" Dean nodded, tears still streaming down his face. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to will himself to be strong and stop crying. "How the hell did this happen?"

"I don't --"

"Don't you dare say that you don't know," John growled.

"But I don't, Dad. It's not something I can explain or rationalize. It's just… It, It just happened."

"It just happened? Oh, of course," John said sardonically. "Rape doesn't just happen!"

"God, I didn't rape him!" Dean said, completely shocked to hear what he and Sam had done labeled so brutally.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't consensual," John murmured. Dean said nothing at that, he didn't want to put any of the blame on Sam. "You coerced him, twisted his mind until he thought… I don't wanna know, but he's your little brother. Fourteen years old! And you, you're gonna be nineteen in a month! Do you know just how sick you are?"

"Yes," Dean whispered. These words were nothing new to him, they were things he had been telling himself for a long time but it was different hearing them come from his father.

"You do? Then why the hell would you do that to him?" John asked, demanding answers to questions that couldn't be solved with a simple statement. Dean knew his father would never understand, and honestly, if John had Dean wouldn't have been able to stomach it. John had _integrity_ and as hard as Dean tried to be like his father, he failed. He was beyond a failure. He was some sick creature that had preyed on a child, a child that was his own brother. All that crushing self-loathing that he had managed to escape came rushing back and Dean bit down hard on his lip to keep from crying out.

* * *

Sam peered out the window again and was surprised to see the Impala parked right out front. He could see that John was furious and Dean was just sitting there… crying. He stared at his family, mesmerized for a moment. He opened the door with shaky hands and made his way towards the car.

"Sam, get back inside," John said stiffly. Sam stood rooted to the spot, arms crossed and jaw clenched. "Do _not_ be obstinate, I don't need this from you right now," John breathed. Sam didn't move an inch. "I will drag you back into that motel room myself."

Sam ignored his father's threat and peered over at Dean who wouldn't acknowledge his presence. "Samuel! Get back inside!" John roared. He wished he had been able to bite his tongue, to just focus on the hunt and deal with his fractured family later. But John had lost control and now he had to clean up his children's mess somehow.

"Dad --"

John held up a hand to silence his youngest son. Sam clenched his jaw but refrained from speaking. The look on his brother's face was making Sam's whole body tense and ache, he knew exactly what Dean was thinking: guilt, doubt, hate.

"Dean, don't," Sam whispered. Dean looked up for a second, his eyes connecting with his baby brother's before he turned away, unable to take the desperation he saw in Sam's young face.

John yanked his car door open and stepped out of the Impala, grabbing Sam by the arm and escorting him back inside the motel room without a word. Sam struggled against his father's grip but was forced inside before he could really rebel.

"Stay here," John whispered venomously as he slammed the door closed in Sam's face. He made his way back to the car where Dean sat frozen. "You will remain at my side for this entire hunt. I don't want you anywhere near your brother. Once we've dealt with this job…" John's voice faded. What was he going to do with his sons once the werewolves had been dealt with? How was he going to deal with the two of them? He couldn't keep Dean under his supervision forever. And not only that, but how was he going to be able to focus on the job when all he could think about was the perversity of his sons?

"Once we've dealt with this job," John started again, "Well, I-I'll handle this _thing_ between you two after.... But for now I don't want to hear a single word from you unless it has to do with the hunt."

Dean nodded and murmured a soft, "Yes sir."

---------------------------------------------

_Sorry that the updates are coming more slowly but stay tuned! Love to all the reviewers, keep those comments coming!  
~aep _


	52. Grounded

**52. Grounded**

Sam watched as the door opened and John and Dean entered the small room. Dean turned and closed the door with a snap as John crossed the room and grabbed the phone.

"Jim? No, it's a damn mess. I've never seen something like this before. I'm gonna need help with this," John continued to explain the situation to Pastor Jim, his back turned to his sons.

Sam tried to catch his brother's eye but Dean refused to look. Sam wanted to scream at his brother and wanted to scream even more at his father. He sat on the bed, furious at the situation he and Dean had managed to land themselves in. They should have known better than to think that they could be happy even for a few moments in time. Maybe Dean had been right to avoid Sam for so long. Maybe Sam should have just accepted his loneliness.

Was aching sadness from missing his brother better than the shame and anger and hopelessness he felt now? He stared at his big brother and sighed quietly. Dean looked so broken, fragile even. It was something Sam had never seen in his brother before. He wanted desperately to make it all better but he knew there was no way to do that.

Moving as one under the warm stream of water… it was so beautiful and felt so wonderful and yet the consequence of their father discovering the extent of their relationship ruined the memory. The memory of that perfect moment when Sam and Dean had finally connected had turned sour. Sam could practically hear the thoughts racing through John and Dean's head. _Perversion. Molestation. Incest. Abuse. Despicable. Sick. Wrong. Disgusting. Unconscionable…_

And as much as Sam wished he could reject his family's feelings, in all honesty, he felt them too. What they had done was wrong, it was sick. Still, Sam wished more than anything that all that didn't matter.

Neither brother really noticed their father making phone calls; they were too lost in their own emotions. John himself was barely able to focus on the job, unable to make the calls he needed to make in order to get another hunter to help with the case.

* * *

Dean watched his father and Bobby walk away from the car and into the police station posing as FBI agents. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. The car was freezing cold and he tapped his foot impatiently in the back seat. He wished he could be with Sam. He hated to admit it even to himself but he needed to see his brother, alone. Or at the very least he wished he could distract himself by being involved in researching the case. Then again, that would require more quality time with John. Neither Dean nor his father were too keen to spend any real time around the other.

* * *

Sam glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and noticed a tiny calendar next to it. _December 27th;_ they had missed Christmas. Though with tension running dangerously high it was probably best that they had paid no attention to the holiday. Still, Sam felt envious of the children who could spend a happy Christmas with their families with nothing to worry about except if Santa was going to bring them the toy they wanted most. Sam turned away from the nightstand and grabbed the remote control, flicking the television on lazily.

He flipped through the channels restlessly before turning it off again and stepping outside. He leaned against the balcony and looked down moodily and ran his hands through his hair absentmindedly. He was so utterly frustrated by how everything had gone down. He paced back and forth on the small balcony. Suddenly, his stomach growled and he realized just how hungry he was. He searched his pockets for spare change and made his way downstairs to a vending machine.

* * *

John started up the car without a word while Bobby looked over the police reports they had gotten. Dean decided to speak up. "Can I see one of those reports?" he asked. Bobby was about to hand him one when John intervened.

"Leave the research up to us, we can handle that. You're just some extra muscle."

"Yes sir," Dean muttered. He noticed the startled, uncomfortable look on Bobby's face in the rearview mirror and felt a little better knowing that he wasn't the only that felt like John was being an ass. A few minutes later they were pulling into the motel parking lot.

"Alright, let's look these over in your room, Bobby," John said as he opened the car door and got out. Dean and Bobby followed suit, though Bobby seemed a bit hesitant. It was all too clear that there was a serious rift between the Winchesters.

"What about Sam? We gonna leave him cooped up in your room without any company for the whole day?" Bobby asked. John took a deep calming breath before speaking.

"Sam and Dean are both grounded. Dean's only here with us because I don't want them togeth-- I don't want them together just so they can whine to each other about it."

"Um, alright. Well, let's get started, we don't have much time before tonight to get ready." Bobby said with a shrug. John nodded curtly and the three of them made their way across the parking lot to Bobby's room.

-----------------------------------------------

_Sorry it's taken me so long to crank out another chapter. And sadly, the upcoming chapters will take a while too but please stay tuned! Thanks for all of your reviews/comments -- keep 'em coming!  
~aep _


	53. Questions

**53. Questions**

Sam was walking back to the room, junk food in hand, when he saw Dean, John and Bobby crossed the parking lot and enter what had to be Bobby's room. He sighed and trudged back upstairs, slamming the door behind him and ripping open the honey bun wrapper. He looked down at the unappetizing snack. He wasn't one for sweets but it had been the largest and cheapest thing at the vending machine so he had gotten it.

He bit into his food disgustedly and wondered how the research was going with John, Bobby and Dean, just a few rooms away.

* * *

Dean sat in the corner of the room while Bobby and John perused the documents. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the cool wall. The image of his brother drifted into his mind and he couldn't dispel it. In his mind's eye he could see himself and Sammy holding each other, skin to skin. He ran a hand over his face as though trying to wipe away his thoughts.

"Well, it's definitely werewolves but how in the hell are they organizing like this?" Bobby asked in frustration. Dean opened his eyes and slowly moved towards the desk where all the information was sprawled. John bristled but remained silent, allowing Dean to look over his shoulder and read.

"Map it out. Where did all these murders take place? There's probably some common ground." Dean said. Bobby and John both nodded. John muttered that he was going to the car to grab the map they had purchased earlier and left the room quickly.

"I don't want to butt in, but… What the hell is goin' on between the three of you?" Bobby asked, staring Dean in the face pensively. Dean shrugged.

"Just family stuff," Dean said quietly. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

It seemed that all the werewolf attacks had happened within a five block radius. John drove the Impala to the large abandoned industrial building that marked the center of the attacks. He remembered the building from months ago; behind it he had found that dead child under the dumpster. Dean recognized the building too as the Impala parked on the other side of the empty street.

The moonlight was just as weak as it had been the night before. The three men quietly stepped out of the car and came to stand shoulder to shoulder at the trunk. John unlocked it and lifted up the board that hid the vast array of weapons they used. They loaded up their guns with silver bullets and pocketed them, all feeling that obliterating an entire nest of werewolves in two nights' time was an insurmountable feat. Something that needed to be conquered before the new moon with many more lives at risk.

"Dean, patrol the block. We're going inside," John said, pointing to Bobby and then to the building. Dean nodded and watched as the two men crawled inside building through a broken window on the first floor. He stood still, squinting into the darkness with ears straining to hear anything. He gripped his gun tightly in his hand, not caring that it was so cold that his fingers were going numb.

He started to pace, a small line at first that slowly grew longer and longer until he was spanning the entire block. A scratching sound caught his attention and he turned around to see a young woman standing not far from him. She looked injured and Dean recalled the werewolf trick that his father had mentioned. He aimed the gun high, unsure whether or not to fire as the figure limped closer.

She was just a few feet away now and Dean could feel his pulse racing. He wasn't going to fire unless he could be certain that his bullet wouldn't be lodged in some poor victim's heart. Their eyes connected as she closed the space between them. The pain and fear in her eyes melted and a smirk stole over her face. Dean pulled the trigger before she could blink.

She collapsed to the ground, twisted smile still in place. He stared down at that face, barely registering the blood soaking the ground and seeping into his shoes. There was something about that smile that was absolutely terrifying.

* * *

Sam walked back and forth in the cramped room. Unable to take it any longer, he pocketed a small silver dagger and the room keys and strode out the door and into the dark night.

He kept jumping at the slightest sound. He felt foolish to be so on edge but knew he had good reason to be. Sam couldn't stand obeying John for one minute longer. In the past months he had tried to keep his rebellious side in check as much as possible but he couldn't take it anymore. He knew that wandering around by himself under the full moon in the middle of a town crawling with werewolves was probably the dumbest move he could make but he didn't care. It was exhilarating to finally break out of the passive role he had made for himself lately. The thrill of finally disobeying his father in such a fundamental way was intoxicating.

Beyond what Sam had done with Dean (which was something that he felt he couldn't really help), he had allowed himself to but crushed under John's thumb for too long. It felt so good to finally snap and step out of the oppressive state he'd been pushed into. Sam could feel his heart racing and his cheeks aching from the stupid smile plastered to his face. The freezing night air stung at every inch of exposed skin but he didn't care. He felt free for the first time in a long time.

Sam hadn't run off in search of his brother again, he had just walked out of the motel room for no other reason than to be free. He didn't care about the danger he was putting himself in, in fact, he reveled in it.

The wind whipped through his hair and rang in his ears. He didn't hear the footsteps that were growing closer behind him until a hand had clasped tightly around his shoulder. He spun around, adrenaline racing as he plunged his hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the little silver knife, pulling it out swiftly.

"D'you got any spare change?" Sam slipped the knife back into his pocket and shook his head at the man. Clad in baggy, filthy clothes and with a weathered face that had so many wrinkles that Sam couldn't imagine what he must have looked like when he was young. The man squinted his eyes as he looked at Sam.

"You're just a kid," he muttered. "What are you doin' out here so late?"

"Not to be rude, but I don't think that's any of your business," Sam said firmly. The man just shrugged and started to walk away before turning back to look at Sam once more.

"A kid like you shouldn't be out here. Why the hell aren't you home with your family?" The man shook his head disapprovingly and walked off before Sam could reply.

The thrill of escaping that little cell-like motel room faded as Sam watched the man walk off into the distance. He wished that he _could_ be home with his family. "But let's face it, it's not like the Winchesters are a nice, normal family that spends the night in playing board games," he muttered cynically to himself.

-------------------------------------

_Once again, I'm soooo sorry for taking forever to update. FF wouldn't let me upload the document yesterday because of some damn glitch but besides that I've been insanely busy and wrestling with writer's block. I know exactly where I want this story to go and yet I can't seem to write it out. Well, I'm still working on it. No way I'm giving up this far into it. Besides, I really love writing this and reading your opinions on it too!  
_

_Anyway, once again, I'm really sorry that the updates are coming so damn slowly. Hopefully I'll get over my block and be back to posting more regularly. Cross your fingers.  
~aep _


	54. Attack

**54. Attack**

"DEAN!" John yelled from inside the building. Dean ran over to it and wormed through the open window just as Bobby and John had. "DEAN!" He followed his father's voice upstairs, accompanied by the thunderous crashes that indicated a serious fight.

Dean took in the sight of the large dusty room; odd looming shapes of old machines covered by sheets, floor covered with blood and at least ten bodies as well as four more werewolves that were still alive and putting up one hell of a fight. Dean raised his gun and aimed at one that had just ripped the gun from his father's hand. One shot through the heart and it collapsed at John's feet. John grabbed his gun from the floor and fired at one that was advancing on Bobby.

"Thanks!" Bobby yelled as he wrestled with yet another werewolf. Neither John nor Dean could take a shot without risking hitting Bobby. They ran forward and pulled the werewolf off of him. Bobby's shot rang out and the wolf fell to the floor as he opened his gun and inspected the empty cylinder. He closed it and turned to the duffel bag on the floor behind him. He quickly reloaded his gun.

Thunderous footsteps on the stairs made all three men turn. "I'll go check it out," Bobby said.

"Take this, just in case," John said, tossing him a shotgun. Bobby caught it and sped out of the room.

* * *

Sam walked aimlessly, squinting against the freezing wind that was blowing in his face. The cold was making him reconsider being outside but that rebellious spark inside him made him keep walking.

He turned down a small side road and shuffled his feet through the thin layer of dirty snow beneath him. A little streetlamp flickered and went out. It felt like the darkness was pressing in on him. He looked up into the sky, unable to make out any stars in the vast blackness. The moon was almost completely invisible, masked by heavy clouds. Small flurries of snow began to fall, little ghosts in the night.

Sam watched as the snow began to coat everything around him. He smiled and held out his hands, feeling the cold pinpricks land on his skin. He spun around, gaining speed, not caring if he fell. The speed of the motion sent him reeling, he finally fell hard on the ground and burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, I'm insane," he whispered to himself. He laid still on the ground and closed his eyes. He was so cold that his body was growing numb. His mind was wandering when a rustling sound made him sit straight up. He peered into the darkness as he began to stand. A guttural growl met his ears. He squinted in the direction of the sound as he pulled the knife from his pocket.

A figure suddenly came loping at him, body close to the ground. Sam practically burst out laughing when he realized it was only a dog. It barked territorially a few yards from Sam. Though it wasn't a supernatural creature it was still large enough to do damage.

"Don't worry boy, I'll get off your turf," Sam said softly. He moved towards the dog very slowly as it continued to bark. "You're kinda blocking the only exit. It's a dead end street," he said as if the dog could understand him. Its barking ceased and the two of them stared at each other for a moment.

Suddenly it howled and ran straight at Sam. He made to get out of the way but the dog shot right past him. He stared into the dark dead end, half-expecting the crazed dog to show itself again but it didn't. He began to walk away, back the way he had come, when a whimper made him stop. He turned back, once again squinting in the darkness but he couldn't make anything out. Another whimper, a growl, and then a thud.

Sam felt a nervous tightness in his chest. His curiosity won out over his common sense and instead of leaving he just stood there, listening intently. A figure finally loomed out of the darkness, dragging something else behind it: the dog.

Sam gripped his knife tightly and walked forward. The figure released the dog it had killed and turned to look Sam straight in the eye. It was a werewolf, female and about the same age as Dean. It sank back, preparing to lunge but Sam was ready. The wolf shot forward, knocking Sam onto the ground but not before he managed to jab his knife into its chest. He pushed her off of him with all his might, standing and gasping from the adrenaline rush. His knife was still lodged in her chest.

The werewolf tried to get back up on its feet but Sam swiftly brought his foot down on the handle of the knife, making it sink deeper into the wolf's flesh. He watched as she took her last gasping breaths.

* * *

A wolf rose from the shadows on the far side of the cavernous room. It lunged at Dean just as another werewolf charged at John. John struggled with the beast for a moment before managing to throw it off and lodge a bullet in its chest. The wolf that Dean was fighting against managed to overpower him, knocking him down to the ground and pinning him there.

"Dad, help!" Dean yelled as he struggled beneath the creature. "Dad!" he yelled again. John watched mutely, he couldn't bring himself to raise his gun. _This is insane, help your son,_ John thought frantically. Still, it was as if he had no control over his own body. He couldn't move a muscle as he watched Dean squirm under the large wolf.

John realized why he hadn't made any move to protect his son: he wanted Dean to be in pain after what he had done to little Sammy. _He could die,_ John told himself, still standing stock still. A sick thought crept into his mind, _Maybe he deserves to._

Bobby sped back up the stairs and into the room. "Help!" Dean yelled again. Bobby surveyed the scene for a second, his eyes darting from the two bodies struggling on the floor and John standing as still as a statue. He rushed forward and kicked with all his might, knocking the werewolf sideways. He fired two shots into its chest, emptying his revolver. He cast it aside and knelt down by Dean who lay panting on the ground, claw marks disguising his handsome face. Bobby grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Dean couldn't bring himself to speak but he nodded thankfully. Bobby put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes full of concern. Dean just nodded again. Bobby studied Dean's face for a moment before turning and advancing upon John.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" Bobby asked furiously. John just shook his head. "What's wrong w--? You almost let your son die!"

"Y-You don't know what he did," John whispered.

"What he did? I don't care what he did! He's your goddamn son! You can punish him however you see fit but you can't stand and watch while he almost gets himself killed!"

"You don't understand," John muttered quietly, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Dean. He looked like a madman.

"What don't I understand -- that you're a poor excuse for a father? That you almost let your boy get slaughtered? Nothing Dean could've done would warrant his father to betray him like that!" Bobby yelled, red in the face and breathing heavily. "I oughtta blast you with thi--" he didn't finish the sentence but cocked the shotgun in his hand threateningly.

John seemed to break from his trance and he finally looked Bobby straight in the eye. "This isn't your business," John said coldly.

"You're damn right it's not! I came here to do a job -- to stop monsters. I didn't know I was workin' with one." Bobby said furiously.

"Now I remember why I prefer to work alone," John muttered. Bobby's eyes widened, but he seemed too livid to formulate any sort of response. He clenched his jaw and tried to take a deep breath.

"I-I took down a few wolves on the stairs. I don't know _or care_ if there are any more in this godforsaken town. I'm done. I don't want to have anything more to do with you," Bobby seethed, staring John down. He turned to look at Dean. "Now as much as I'd like to stay to make sure that you're safe in present company I think I'd better go before my trigger finger gets too damn itchy. I'm sure you two will work whatever it is out. A piece of shit father is better than a dead one."

Dean's eyes shot to his father's face, expecting to see some reaction to what Bobby had said but John just smiled wryly. Dean turned his attention back to Bobby as he began to walk out the door.

Bobby paused in the doorway for a moment and looked back, "Dean, if you ever need my help… for _anything_, I'm listed. Now I'm gonna walk back to the motel to get my car and then I'm gonna get the hell out of town." The two Winchesters silently watched their fellow hunter leave.

---------------------------------------------------

_Yay! I actually managed to finish another chapter! I'm still all writer's-blocky and not really happy with this chapter at all, well except for Bobby finally telling John off.  
Tell me what y'all think! You know I love your comments/reviews. Plus any pointers you could give me would be very much appreciated.  
By the by, remember… __**Devil's Trap (1.22)**__?_

**Dean:** Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should come.  
**Bobby:** Nonsense, your Daddy needs help.  
**Dean:** Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything.  
**Bobby:** Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people.  
**Dean:** Yeah, I guess he does.


	55. Pride

**55. Pride**

Sam knelt down beside the dead wolf. "I'm sorry," he muttered as his hand reached hesitantly for the knife. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and yanked it out of her chest with a sickening squelch. "I'm so sorry."

He stood slowly, wiping the bloody knife off with his jacket before sticking it back into his pocket. He made his way down the road, gaining speed when he was able to see the streetlamp ahead.

"So that's what your bid for freedom got you," he whispered to himself.

* * *

The car ride back to the motel was silent. John's head was reeling with contradicting emotions while Dean could barely form a thought. The shock of everything that had happened left Dean numb.

John turned the car off and yanked the key from the ignition. He quickly slipped out of the car and into the motel room followed by Dean. They barely acknowledged Sam sitting at the edge of the bed. John walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Dean glanced around the room, anywhere but at his brother until finally Sam spoke.

"Where's Bobby?" he asked softly.

Dean finally looked over at his brother. "He left," he said vaguely. He ignored Sam's inquisitive look. "What's that?" Dean asked, noticing the dark stain on his brother's jacket. Sam just shrugged. Dean moved forward, brushing his hand against the dark spot.

"This is fresh blood. Why the hell do you have blood on you? Did you get hurt?" Dean asked, sounding more accusatory than concerned.

"I'm fine. I-I killed a werewolf," Sam said. He watched as his brother's brow began to furrow. He quickly cut in before Dean could speak, "Where did Bobby go?"

"You went outside?" Dean asked, completely ignoring Sam's question. He felt too disheartened to really scold Sam for recklessly leaving the motel room by himself. The two stared at each other silently. The tension between them grew until neither could stand it any longer.

Sam stood up, casting a nervous glance at the bathroom door. "Yeah, I went outside. Dean, how can you stand the way Dad treats us? Don't you ever just want to rebel?" he whispered, staring into his brother's tired face.

"Look, I think we've 'rebelled' more than enough in the past few months," Dean muttered, turning to face the window and escaping his little brother's gaze.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked softly. Dean bristled.

"Nothing," he murmured, still staring at the window. He could hear Sam soft footsteps moving closer to him.

"Something's wrong," Sam said, able to sense that Dean's discomfort was more than just the current argument. "What happened on the hunt? Why did Bobby leave?"

Dean shut his eyes, trying to ignore the hand on his shoulder. "Dad… Dad screwed up," he muttered with a shrug.

"What happened?" Sam asked again.

"Look," Dean started, swiping Sam's hand away from his shoulder, "Sammy, let's not get into this. I'm not in a caring-and-sharing mood."

* * *

John sighed and took a seat on the edge of the tub. He couldn't believe his own behavior. Bobby was right, even with what Dean had done he didn't deserve to die. He didn't deserve a father who would let him die.

John ran a hand over his stubbly chin and closed his eyes. He had always feared for his sons' safety from supernatural forces, he never thought he'd have to protect them from each other or from himself.

He didn't register the fact that he was crying until a tear slid down the tip of his nose and fell onto his knee. He watched the tear get absorbed by the jeans, leaving nothing but a dark pinprick in its place.

More than the shame of how he had behaved, he hated his pride. Pride stopped him from walking out of that bathroom that very second and grabbing Dean up in a hug like he was four years old again. Holding his son in his arms and telling him just how sorry he was, how horrified he was at his own behavior and how much he truly loved Dean no matter what.

John wished he could move past the wall he had built around himself after Mary's death and be the father he had been when she was alive. He wanted to be the father that showed how unconditionally he loved his children. He wanted to be able to say to them both how sorry he was for all that he had put them through. He wished he could fix them, make them happy and healthy and normal.

And selfishly, he wished that he could be proud of them and not sickened by them. He wanted so much but he knew that he couldn't have any of it.

----------------------------------------------------

_In the show, while intellectually I could understand John's viewpoint, I found it difficult to feel for him. But now in writing this I sort of feel more of a connection to him. Even if he did stand by and watch as Dean almost got turned into wolfy food._

_Anyway, please, as always, tell me what you think! The writing is still coming rather slowly but I think I'm starting to get my mojo back a little. I hope. Haha. Love you guys!  
~aep _


	56. An Apology

**56. An Apology**

"I'm not in a caring-and-sharing mood."

"Fine," Sam muttered sullenly, stepping away from his brother and taking a seat on the lumpy bed. Dean slowly turned to face Sammy. He surveyed him closely.

"What about you?" Dean asked accusingly. Sam shrugged. "Oh no. You're not getting off that easy. Why the hell did you go out by yourself? You could've gotten killed! Hell, you actually ran into a damn werewolf… which was kinda the whole point of staying in the room."

Sam shrugged again. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to get a lecture. As he was walking back to the motel after the run-in with that werewolf he had been scolding himself. So it wasn't a surprise to hear Dean speak his thoughts aloud now. He tuned in and out of his brother's speech.

"Okay. Thanks Dad, that's enough. I've learned my lesson now," he said sarcastically when he couldn't take it anymore. Dean scowled but fell silent. An aching tension tugged at the both of them. The silence accentuated it and made it all the more strained.

It was as if a television had been turned on and put to a channel that had nothing but static; static that grew louder with each passing second. Sam chewed on his chapped lips. He felt his bottom lip split open and a droplet of blood ooze from it. He quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked up to see Dean staring at him.

"What?" he asked. Dean turned away, pressing a hand against the frozen window and peering out into the darkness. "What?" Sam asked again. His brother's silence was infuriating. "Just tell me what happened and I'll answer any questions you have." He hoped the bargain seemed fair. He waited for some sort of response from his big brother.

After another moment Dean stepped away from the window. "Dad and Bobby got into a huge fight. That's why he left," Dean finally said.

"Wh--"

"Dad screwed up, okay?!" Dean cut Sam off. "I can't really blame him but Bobby did and…" his voice faded away. He was embarrassed and ashamed for making his father so apathetic towards him and yet he also felt shame _for_ his father. Even though Dean understood that what he had done to Sammy was unforgivable he also realized that a father should never abandon his child like that, leaving him to die.

Dean didn't want to admit to Sam that their father was capable of something so cold and harsh. He noticed another droplet of blood blooming over Sam's bottom lip. He watched as he outstretched his arm automatically towards his brother. He finally gained some control over himself and stopped, fingers barely an inch away from Sam's face.

Sam gazed at the trembling hand before him. He took it in his own and breathed a sigh of relief when Dean didn't pull away. He looked up into his big brother's eyes to see tears shining in them. He felt his own eyes begin to sting but he ignored it.

"What did Bobby blame Dad for?" he asked softly. Dean shut his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away with his free hand and took a seat next to Sam on the bed.

"You know Dad, he's hard-headed. They, uh, they couldn't agree on how to hunt down all the werewolves so they just sorta parted ways." He could feel Sam's scrutinizing eyes on him but he was determined not to tell him the truth. Sam didn't need to know.

* * *

John hid his face in his hands and sighed. He hated that even though he wished more than anything that he had taken some action to protect Dean, he still had this seething resentment towards the boy.

He stood up from the edge of the tub and stared at himself in the small bathroom mirror. He could barely stand to face himself, he didn't know how his son was going to. Hell, he didn't know if he could face Dean after everything that had happened; he didn't know if he could face Sam either.

He shut his eyes tightly and gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles showed white. "Goddammit," he whispered to himself. He finally opened his eyes and looked back into the mirror. Before he was even aware of the movement, his fist had risen and shot into the glass. He hissed in pain and shook his hand out, raining small drops of blood onto the floor. He stared into his shattered reflection, broken and deformed.

John rinsed off his cut hand and stepped out of the bathroom to see the boys sitting together. John noted just how close they were and the way Sam had his head leaning against Dean's shoulder. John cleared his throat and Sam and Dean sprung apart. They watched as their father moved slowly and purposefully towards them.  
"Dean, I-I need to speak with you," John muttered. Dean hesitated for a moment before obediently nodding his head and following his father outside the small motel room. He waited nervously for John to speak.

"Look," John began softly, "Bobby was… he was right. I shouldn't have acted the way I did." He fell silent. Dean could hardly believe that John Winchester was actually issuing an apology. John's pride and stubbornness had always guarded against his sons seeing a truly sincere or remorseful side of him.

A crow cawed in the distance, breaking the two men from their reverie. "Dean, what I'm trying to say is… I-I'm sorry." Their eyes met briefly before the two looked away again. The moment was over and John quickly resumed his rough manner. "That's not to say that I'd _ever_ condone what you did but I… I know that I shouldn't have responded to it that way." He waited for Dean to form some kind of response. "Are we clear?" he pressed.

"Yes sir."

----------------------------------------------

_"Happy Halloween, Motherfuckers."  
~Terrance Zdunich_

_He rocks. I met him last night... technically this morning. He is Grave Robber... He is the creator of Repo! The Genetic Opera. Check it out if you haven't already... It's fvcking a-maz-ing.  
_

_So my Halloween has been amazing so far. What about yours?_

_And as always I'm sorry that it took a while to update but of course, please tell me what you think!  
~aep _


	57. Silence

**57. Silence**

Sam tiptoed to the door, pressing his ear against it to hear the hushed conversation on the other side. He wanted desperately to know why his father was apologizing to Dean. What had gone so seriously wrong that John felt that he actually had to acknowledge it and apologize for it?

Sam heard shifting on the other side of the door and quickly stepped away. He sat back down on the bed just as the door opened and John and Dean walked through it. Sam studied their faces; John's was pained and Dean's… awestruck.

John turned on the spot, unsure of where to go next. He couldn't stand to be near his children for so many reasons and yet he didn't trust them enough to leave them alone. He took a deep breath before donning his coat and turning to his sons.

"I-I'm going out for a little while. Gonna scan the town for anymore werewolves. You two j-just stay here and don't get into any… trouble." With that he walked out of the room.

"Trouble?" Sam murmured questioningly though he knew exactly what his father had meant. He found himself studying Dean's face again; furrowed brow and pursed lips. He watched as Dean sighed and took a seat on the other bed. Sam wanted desperately to talk to him and ask him exactly what was going on but he knew that Dean needed some time to mull things over.

"You know what I hate?" Dean whispered, more to himself than to Sam. Sam looked at him curiously. "I hate that I can't control… anything. I can't control my feelings or the way Dad looks at us now. I just can't… I can't fix it. Fix you, me… _us_." Dean brought a hand to his lips, biting idly at his nails. Sam stood and went to stand in front of Dean, gently pulling his hand away from his lips.

"I don't think biting your fingers off is the solution," Sam muttered. Dean scowled for a moment before a small smile crossed his face.

"You know that no matter what I love you. You're my brother and my best friend and…" Dean's voice faded. He was embarrassed to admit all this to Sam but he still felt like he had to. Sam smiled and took a seat beside his big brother.

"Yeah, I know. And you know that the same goes for you, right?" Sam asked earnestly. Dean nodded. Sam leaned his head against Dean's shoulder gently. Dean put a shaky arm around his little brother and sighed again.

* * *

An hour had passed since John had left them alone. The TV was on, a news segment was running quietly. The two of them stared blankly at the screen. Dean found his eyes drifting away from the television and over to his brother. Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him. He let his own eyes stray from the TV to look at his brother.

Dean could feel his breath catch in his chest and instinctively sensed that Sam's breathing was just as nervous. "W-We shouldn't," Sam whispered.

"No, we really shouldn't," Dean replied as he slipped a hand behind his brother's neck and pulled him in closer. Their lips met. He wanted to take comfort in his little brother, even if Sam was part of the reason for John's seething resentment.

"Dean, are you sure about this?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean whispered before placing another kiss on Sam's lips.

* * *

The Impala curved down the sloping back road. John's eyes scanned the surroundings. He knew what his mission was but he couldn't keep focused on it. His mind kept getting drawn back to his sons.

They were alone together. The disturbing thought of what they could be doing was enough to make his blood freeze in his veins. And yet the fear of what they might be doing was nothing compared to the terror of how he would react the next time.

If he hunted with Dean again could he trust himself to protect his son? Bobby wouldn't be there to step in again. The overwhelming guilt John felt for his behavior that night was suppressed by dread. Dread because he knew he couldn't trust himself and it was almost inevitable that he would hurt one or both of his children somehow.

He couldn't help but wonder how he could have gone so wrong as to damage those boys and turn them into… freaks. Not only did he somehow manage to raise his sons into a life of perversion but his temper was enough to abandon them instead of trying to somehow fix them.

John felt like he was torn; appalled by his own behavior and with that of his sons. Would they actually obey his orders or were they at that very moment doing unspeakable things? He didn't know how to change them; how to undo what they had done.

He didn't realize how fast he had been driving the car until it skidded on a patch of black ice. He managed to slow the Impala down and parked it, resting his head against the freezing steering wheel and sighing.

* * *

Dean's fingers stretched across Sam's back, fanning out and feeling the movement of every muscle. Sam's lips drifted from Dean's, slowly traveling down to rest at his clavicle, gently kissing at the base of his neck. Dean's eyes slid shut as Sam's tongue ventured forward to meekly taste Dean's skin.

Sam paused when his chin dipped down to meet with the collar of Dean's shirt. "Dean?" he asked softly. Dean opened his eyes and looked at Sam questioningly. "Does it ever get easy?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Hunting. Do you ever forget that the ghost you're obliterating used to be a person? Or that a werewolf still technically is?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really think of it like that." Dean looked intently into Sam's crestfallen face. "We're doing the right thing. We protect people by doing what we do."

"Yeah, I-I know," Sam muttered. The image of the werewolf he had killed a few hours ago was still emblazoned on his mind. "It's just, I was sort of hoping that maybe it wouldn't be as hard to… I don't know, I guess I was just sort of hoping that after the first time I would get over it. But it feels the same. I can still see the first wolf I killed in my head and now this one…." his voice trailed off as tears began to sting at his eyes. He sniffled and blinked them away.

"Sammy, it's okay," Dean whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his little brother's face.

"I'm not like you and Dad… I don't think I can do this," Sam muttered. The shame he felt for not being strong enough to hunt seemed to claw at his insides.

"You don't have to be like Dad," Dean assured his brother. "And you sure as hell don't have to be like me."

"But I want to. You're my big brother --"

"Please, please don't try to emulate me. I'm no role model," Dean whispered. He could picture the shame, anger, disgust, hatred in his father's eyes when John looked at him. "Look, let's not talk about this," Dean said after a moment. He pulled Sam closer to him and pressed his lips against Sam's. "Let's just not talk."

* * *

_Sorry, I intended to get this chapter to y'all earlier but things have been crazy. I love you guys for sticking with this story. Your reviews/comments fuel me. :) *HUGGLE*  
~aep _


	58. Separation

**58. Separation**

Sam sighed into the kiss before pulling away. "We can't. I want to but as long as Dad is around it isn't safe to even try." Dean wanted to say that he didn't care, that it didn't matter, but he knew his little brother was right. He nodded slowly and watched longingly as Sam stepped away from him and moved over to the other bed.

* * *

"Mr. Winchester, please daydream on your own time. You have a lot of catching up to do if you plan to succeed in my class," Mrs. Rollands scolded Sam who sat bolt upright at his desk.

He looked down at the date he had written on his notes: 1/07/98. He could hardly believe that Christmas had passed without him, let alone New Year's. He shifted uncomfortably in his small chair and tried to focus. He felt utterly alone in the cramped classroom despite the fact that he was surrounded by other students on all sides. Still, he knew exactly why he felt so lonely; Dean wasn't there -- not in the same room or hallway or school. John had gone through the trouble of settling his sons down in a whole new city and enrolling them in separate high schools.

Sam sighed and tried to ignore just how bittersweet the situation was; being able to attend high school like a normal kid and yet the family dynamic was as tense as ever. It was almost worse this way, having to pretend that nothing was wrong even though it was so utterly apparent that the Winchester family had splintered. He stared down blankly at his history notes and poised his pencil to write. The tip snapped when he pressed down.

* * *

Dean watched as his hand moved of its own accord, doodling a figure while the biology teacher droned on and on like an obnoxious gnat in his ear. Dean certainly wasn't an artist but as he surveyed the little sketch in the corner of his paper he was reminded of his brother.

_Oh, come on. Everything makes you think of Sammy,_ he thought impatiently to himself. He scribbled over the doodle and closed his spiral notebook.

"Mr., uh, Mr. W-Winchester?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, looking up to see the balding science teacher looking at him expectantly.

"Would you, uh, would you like to take a stab at the answer?"

"Yeah, I'd like to take a stab at something," Dean muttered under his breath as he stood up and walked out of the classroom. He ignored Mr. Duboisse calling after him and walked down the hall and out of the school.

Dean shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets and lowered his head against the cold January wind. He kicked at the chunks of dirty snow that he passed. He wished his father hadn't found out about him and Sam, wished that there was nothing to find out about. He wanted to take his mind off of things with a hunt but that wasn't an option. If there was anything supernatural in the vicinity, John sure as hell hadn't said a word about it. And even if he had, a hunt probably wasn't the best idea for a father-son bonding activity.

Dean hadn't registered how far he had walked until his legs had begun to ache from cold and fatigue. He looked past the set of intersection lights to see a giant blue WALMART sign.

He stepped into the warm lobby of the superstore and took a seat on a bench by the sliding doors. He glanced around at the people milling past before noticing a payphone on the opposite wall. He fished his wallet out of his pocket as he made his way towards it and pulled out a few coins and the crumpled up piece of paper with Tara's number on it.

"Hello?"

"H-Hi. Tara? It's Dean."

"God, Dean, I haven't heard from you in forever. Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. What about you and Diane?" Dean asked, guiltily realizing how long it had been since the last time he had called her. He leaned in against the wall and took in the sound of her kind voice as she spoke.

"We're okay. I think I'm still slightly weirded out by the whole 'the truth is out there' thing but other than that life is pretty good. What about you and your whole family situation?"

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. "It's kind of a mess."

* * *

"Hey, Sam!"

Sam spun around to see a stocky, redheaded girl calling after him in the hall. He tried to hide his dismay; the final bell had just rung and he didn't want to stick around. She seemed to notice his discomfort but continued to squeeze her way through the crowd to him.

"Um, I know Mrs. Rollands is giving you a hard time but she wouldn't bother if she didn't think you had potential. She's actually a really g--"

"Yeah, I'm sure she is but I-I have to go. I don't wanna miss my bus." Sam said as he slipped his backpack over his shoulder and made to walk away.

"You're really in your own world, aren't you?" the girl asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I'm Susan. We have three classes together and we ride the same bus," she said, pushing a few stray strands of red hair out of her face.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Sam muttered awkwardly.

"It's okay. Being new isn't easy, I know." She fell into step with him and the two made their way outside to the buses.

"Look, Susan, not trying to be rude but I'm really not in the mood for a conversation right now," he said as politely as he could.

"Sorry," she muttered, tucking her head down against the wind and moving ahead of him to get onto the bus. Sam felt a pang of guilt for hurting her feelings but he really needed some time alone. The bus ride was chaotic; shouting and laughing and cursing while the bus driver remained silent, having given up on imposing order. Sam got off at one of the last stops, two blocks from the motel.

Sam slipped the key into the lock and stepped inside the room. Dean's school ended half an hour earlier than his but he was nowhere in sight. Sam plopped down on his bed, grimacing at the squeaky springs in the mattress. He muttered a hello to his father who sat at the beat up desk in the corner. Sam pulled his binder from his backpack and began his homework, hoping Dean would be back soon.

* * *

_Tell me what you think! I'll try to have more soon. Love you guys.  
~aep _


	59. Terms Of Endearment

**59. Terms Of Endearment**

"You've been on my mind. I've missed talking to you," Tara told Dean over the phone.

"Yeah, me too," Dean conceded. Even though Dean hated exposing himself by admitting his feelings he took some comfort from speaking with Tara. He remembered meeting her in that bar months ago. She hadn't judged him then and she still didn't now. She felt like a safe haven, someone outside of the situation who could see objectively and yet empathetically. There was still that slight hesitation that kept him from revealing his deepest thoughts to her but it was a comfort to know that if he did, she would still accept him. A seed of doubt took root in his stomach. She had accepted him when she knew about the urges he fought. What would she think when she knew he had finally acted upon them?

He began to update her on everything that had happened since he had last spoken to her. It felt like he was retelling some twisted novel he had read, not his own life. He paused when he realized he was actually going to have to admit aloud that he had made love to his little brother.

He glanced around the busy area; shoppers moving in and out of the store. "C-Can we talk in, in person?" he asked. Dean would have honestly preferred to confess over the phone but he couldn't stand the thought of doing it in such a public place, even if he was speaking too quietly to be overheard. He knew he needed to see Tara but he was terrified that he would glance at the expression on her face and see nothing but disgust. Even though Dean felt what a kind and supportive person she was, he didn't know how _anyone_ could fully accept what he had done when he couldn't himself.

"Of course. I'm actually free now. Do you need me to pick you up?" Tara asked.

"No, I'm way out of town. I can borrow a-- the car," Dean assured her. "I'll be there in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Yeah that's fine. I'll see you soon, honey." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Dean pulled out a few more coins and the matchbook with the number for the motel he was staying at. He picked the phone back up and dialed.

"Yes, can I be connected with room one-oh-seven, please." A moment later he heard his father's voice on the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad. I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna be back late."

"Why?" John's voice was stern and demanding.

"Um, I'm going to visit a girl I met a while back," Dean said truthfully. He waited for his father to protest but John didn't.

"Alright," he said curtly and the line went dead a second later. Dean hung up the payphone again and breathed a sigh of relief. He would have gone even if John had forbidden him to but he much preferred it this way. He walked out to the edge of the parking lot, scanning it for a suitable car. He came upon an old, beat up two-door Toyota.

"This'll work," Dean muttered as he set to work picking the lock. "Just gonna borrow it," he whispered to himself with a small smile.

* * *

"Who was that?" Sam asked as his father hung up the phone.

"Dean," John said.

"Oh, what'd he say?"

"Don't worry about your brother. Just do your homework," John said. Sam stifled a sigh and turned back to his history book. Even though Sam had always loved all things academic he found himself unable to focus. He rolled his eyes at his own inability to concentrate and closed the book.

* * *

Dean smiled as the car cruised down the highway. He felt free, like he was flying away from all the drama that was surrounding his life. Though hours had passed it didn't feel like it by the time he found himself in front of Tara's apartment building. He parked the stolen car on the curb and made his way inside.

"Hey, hun," Tara said as he walked through the door. She wrapped him in a hug and guided him to the living room. "Now tell me what's really going on," she said in a motherly tone. Dean sighed and chuckled wryly.

"A lot. I don't even know where to start," Dean said. _That's a lie. You know exactly where to start. You just don't have the fucking guts to say it out loud,_ he thought to himself.

"Just try," Tara prodded gently. Dean took a deep breath in and released it slowly. He shook his head and stared down at his feet.

"Sammy and I… we…" he chanced a glance up at Tara's face before quickly looking away again. "We, we had -- we had sex." He began biting at his nails and waiting for some sort of response. The minutes dragged by at a snail's pace. He finally looked up into Tara's eyes. There was a sadness there that was almost worse than disgust or disapproval.

"Say something," Dean pleaded softly.

"Was it consensual?" she asked.

"Of course. But that doesn't make it right. Forget the fact that we're brothers…. He's a minor. I-I took advantage of him. And not only that but our father found us right afterwards and he realized what had happened."

"God. How did he react?" Tara asked. Dean shook his head and sank back into the sofa.

"Honestly? He tried to feed me to the wolves." Dean burst out laughing at that, realizing what he had just said. Tara looked at him, completely perplexed. "No, seriously. We were fighting a pack of werewolves and I got pinned by one and he just stood there."

"Werewolves… wow. Okay, right," she said, trying to take in the idea of real live werewolves. "So he just watched while you got attacked?" Dean nodded.

"If it hadn't been for Bobby, I'd probably be dead."

"Bobby… Diane's uncle?"

Dean nodded and shifted restlessly on the couch. A knock on the door made him flinch nervously. Tara looked slightly startled as well. She held up a finger to Dean and made her way to the door.

"Hey Di. What are you doing here?" Dean heard Tara ask softly. He heard the door close quietly and a hushed conversation from behind it.

"You said dinner at your place," Diane's voice spoke.

"Oh God. I completely forgot. Can I get a rain check?" Tara asked apologetically. The two women spoke for a few more minutes before Tara reentered the apartment by herself. "Sorry about that."

* * *

"I'm going out for a while," John announced to the room at large before slipping on his coat and leaving.

"Alright," Sam muttered though his father had already left the room. Sam rifled through his bag and quickly came upon a student directory. He flipped through it until he found Susan's number. He sighed and picked up the phone somewhat reluctantly.

"Hi, uh, this is Sam from school. Is Susan there?" Sam asked. Susan's mother told him to hold on for a moment while she went to get her daughter. A few seconds later Susan's voice came on the line.

"Sam?" she asked.

"Yeah, hi. I just wanted to apologize for being so abrupt today. I appreciate how friendly you were being it's just I've been going through a lot lately. Not that that's an excuse to be rude but, I don't know…" Sam mumbled lamely.

"Oh, uh, don't worry about it," Susan said. "I was just gonna ask you if you'd be interested in coming to GSA with me tomorrow after school."

"What's GSA?" Sam asked.

"Gay-Straight Alliance. We're one of the few schools that has one. There was an entire article about it in the paper the other day," Susan explained.

"Oh, why'd you wanna ask me to go?" Sam asked nervously.

"Just wondering. It's open to anyone, gay or straight. Hence the name," Susan said.

"Right," Sam said, shifting slightly on the uncomfortable bed and scratching a spot on his chin absentmindedly. Sam thought about it for a moment. He was restless and lonely and he didn't really have anything to lose. "Um, yeah okay. I guess I'll try it out."

* * *

"Look, it's pitch black out and you've been driving for hours. Stay here for tonight," Tara offered. Dean shook his head and stood up.

"No, it's okay. I should go. Maybe you and Diane can have some time together now. Thanks for… just thanks," Dean said with a small smile. Tara wrapped him in a hug and walked him to the door.

"Don't wait a couple of months before calling me next time, 'kay?" she said, punching him lightly in the arm. He rolled his eyes but nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before making his way back to the car.

Dean glanced up at the sky, unable to see a single star shining above. He started the engine back up and made his way onto the highway again. He could feel the sting in his eyes that meant he was exhausted as he drove. He glanced up at a sign overhead.

"Okay, two more hours give or take," he mumbled to himself. He was going to have to keep himself awake long enough to return the car and make it back to the motel. He jacked up the volume on the radio until the bass beat felt like it was making his chest cavity rattle under his skin.

Finally, he had made it back to WALMART. He dutifully returned the car to the section of parking lot he had found it in and stumbled in the dark towards the motel. It took over twenty minutes in the freezing night air for him to reach the room. He slipped the key in the lock and walked inside, savoring the sudden rush of warmth his body felt.

Sam looked up to see his brother standing in the doorway. His face was bright pink from the cold. "Hi. Where's Dad?" Dean asked.

"Out. I don't know where," Sam said with a shrug. "Where were _you_?" he asked.

"Out," Dean replied curtly. Sam stood up, now face to face with his older brother. Sam glared at Dean who put on his old smirk and shrugged as if to say 'what do you want from me?'.

"You're so full of crap," Sam muttered.

"Yeah, and?" Dean asked. "Bitch," Dean said when Sam made no reply.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned away from his brother. "Jerk," he whispered under his breath, a small smile gracing his features in spite of himself.

* * *

_Tell me what you think! Working on the next chapter right now so hopefully I'll have it up soon. It should make you guys happy, I hope. ;) Anyway, TTFN.  
~aep _


	60. Tension

**60. Tension**

"What'd you call me?" Dean asked. Sam turned back to face his brother, the smile on his lips growing wider.

"Jerk," Sam repeated. The exhaustion Dean had felt just moments ago seemed to melt away. It felt like a surge of electricity had shot through him the second he realized he and his brother were alone for the first time in weeks. The same excitement was evident on Sam's face. They walked towards each other slowly until they were barely three inches apart. They closed the remaining distance between them, lips meeting in a kiss. Their hands groped wildly, fingers clasping hungrily for each other. Sam held Dean's hands tightly in his own and pulled him forward until they had sunk to the edge of the bed.

"I missed you, I missed this," Sam whispered.

"Me too," Dean replied softly. The guilt that always seemed to press down upon the two of them had dissipated, and all that was left was the burning desire to hold each other.

"I need you to touch me," Sam gasped out as he ripped his shirt up over his head. "And never stop." Dean grinned and nodded, slamming his lips against his baby brother's as he let his hands roam. Sam took over, turning them until Dean was pinned against the bed. He slid his hands under his big brother's shirt and yanked it off a moment later.

Dean moaned as Sam began to ferociously kiss and suck at his neck. "This is too good to be true," Dean whispered. "Am I dreaming?" Sam stopped what he was doing long enough to stare into his brother's eyes.

"No, you're not. And neither am I," he said with a smile before returning to Dean's neck. Dean's eyes slid shut as he felt those soft lips attach themselves to his skin. He snaked his hands through Sammy's hair, pulling him even closer. He lifted Sam's head until they were eye to eye. They stared at each other for a moment before their lips met again.

"You were right," Dean whispered against Sam's lips after a moment.

"About what?" Sam asked softly.

"Our lives are anything but normal. We've never followed the rules. I don't know why we tried to for so long." Sam smiled at Dean's words.

"But, but what about Dad?" Sam asked.

"I can't worry about him right now. I just, I just need to touch you," Dean said desperately. He let his hands roam down Sam's bare back, lifting him up and pulling him into his lap. Sam pressed himself against his big brother, relishing the feel of Dean's skin on his.

Their lips met again as their hands continued to explore. It felt like so long since they had touched, since they had even been near one another. Dean's fingers slid down Sam's chest until they reached his jeans, quickly unzipping them and beginning to pull them off. Sam stood up and yanked them off of himself feverishly before descending upon Dean and letting his own hands wander to Dean's pants. Dean gave a sigh as Sam tugged his pants off. As much as he loved his brother and the feel of what they were doing he knew they had to stop.

Dean had said that he couldn't worry about their father right now and he didn't want to. He wished he could push the man from his mind but he couldn't. It was foolish and utterly reckless to continue what they were doing no matter how much both of them wanted it. Sam felt the slight hesitance in his brother and froze.

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry. Just keep touching me, please?" Sam begged. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"I want to. God, I want to. B-But ignoring the fact that Dad could walk in at any second is just stupid. 'Specially after…" he stopped himself before he could mention his last hunt with John. He bit down on his bottom lip and reminded himself that Sam didn't need to know, _couldn't_ know.

Sam sighed and rested his forehead against his big brother's. Once again he sensed a certain tension in Dean, though something told him that this time it had nothing to do with the frustrating situation at hand. He sat back and studied Dean closely. Their eyes met for a moment before Dean looked away.

"L-Look, Sammy, I'm sorry. Let's just get dressed," Dean muttered as he began to pull his clothes back on. Sam continued to watch Dean, as if trying to discern the secret he knew was hiding behind his brother's eyes without speaking a word. "Sam, come on!" Dean said exasperatedly when Sam had made no move to get dressed. He picked up his little brother's shirt off the floor and threw it at him. Sam caught it and slipped it over his head silently.

* * *

"Oh and for the record, you don't have to disclose your sexuality to the group. But it would be confidential if you did," Susan explained as she led Sam upstairs to the classroom GSA met in after school on Thursdays.

They turned down a hall and Susan held open the second door on the right. Sam stepped through it gingerly, as if afraid to step over the threshold and reveal a hidden piece of himself to this new place.

The desks had been pushed to one side and the seats had been arranged in a circle. Most of them were occupied by students that had the unmistakable air of misfits and outcasts. Sam took a seat between Susan and a boy with a thin ring of eyeliner around his eyes and purple nail polish. A fairly young teacher Sam had passed in the halls but never met entered a minute later, apologizing for her tardiness. She noticed Sam in the circle and shook his hand.

"Hey, welcome. I'm Ms. Fletcher and I'm the official Gay-Straight Alliance moderator," she said with a smile.

"I'm Sam," he said softly. Students murmured greetings to him and he gave a small, shy smile in return. The meeting started. People went around in the circle, taking turns discussing possible fundraisers and other means of getting the word out about the GSA before touching on more personal things.

"Yeah, so my mom flipped out. You'd think she would have suspected something but I guess she was a little too wrapped up in her denial," Anthony, the boy next to Sam, said with a shrug.

"Sam, would you like to share anything? Feel free to pass if you don't want to speak," Ms. Fletcher told Sam when Anthony had finished. He gripped the edge of his seat and gnawed on his lip for a moment. He was nervous about speaking but he needed to vent somehow.

"Um, my Dad… Well a while ago, he caught me with my, with another boy and he went nuts. So things have been really weird between us now," Sam stated carefully. Despite the fact that he had to dance around the exact circumstances of the situation, it felt good to be able to release some of the burden. He cleared his throat and continued. "And my friend's Dad is really upset too so it's not like we have a safe place to be together."

* * *

"Thanks for the ride Mrs. Collins," Sam told Susan's mother as he stepped out of the car. Susan and her mother waved and the car pulled out of the motel parking lot and disappeared down the street.

"Where the hell were you?!" John yelled the moment his youngest son had entered the room. Sam stepped back in alarm.

"I-I told you this morning before I left that I had to stay late at school today," Sam said as he set his backpack down. He didn't understand why his father was yelling at him. John had given Sam permission earlier and suddenly he was acting as if he didn't remember. It took Sam a minute to realize that he and John were the only people in the room.

"Wait, this is about Dean, isn't it?" Sam asked before his father could begin shouting again. "I really did stay after school. Dean and I weren't going on some secret rendezvous or something. I don't even know where he is," Sam said indignantly. His father looked livid but before John could open his mouth to speak, the door opened to reveal Dean.

"Where were you?" John demanded, turning his attention to his eldest son. Dean closed the door behind him and looked between Sam and John. Both of them were red-faced and standing tensely in the middle of the room.

"I went for a walk," Dean said. John's eyes darted back and forth between his sons, trying to discern whether or not they were telling the truth. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He hated the doubt he had in his sons. But how could he trust them after all that he'd seen?

Dean cast his coat and backpack aside and stood there awkwardly, just waiting for his father to lash out at him somehow. He could see the struggle on John's face; doubt, fear, anger, suspicion…. Dean sighed. He knew his father was behaving reasonably given the circumstances but it was still so frustrating. He almost preferred that brutal sense of betrayal on the night of the hunt to John's constant obsessive watching and waiting for Sam and Dean to disappoint and disgust him once again.

* * *

_Well to all my American readers, I hope you guys have a great Thanksgiving tomorrow. :)_

_Tell me what you think of this chapter. As always your constructive criticism and comments are very appreciated.  
Ciao.  
~aep _


	61. Confession

**61. Confession**

"Jim, I-I just don't know what the hell to do," John muttered into the phone. He slid a hand over his face in frustration and sighed.

"John, what do you mean? What's going on between you and your children?" Pastor Jim asked gently. John took a deep breath. He could barely stand the thought of admitting aloud to another person the relationship his sons had. It was wrong and he was so ashamed by it. Confiding in Pastor Jim felt like a confession of his own sins and inadequacies as a father and he desperately needed to let it out and speak the truth.

He didn't know how to word it. He wished there was a way to say it that would somehow soften the blow. _Oh come on, your sons violated each other. There's no pretty way to say that,_ he thought to himself.

"Sam and Dean, they… I found them together last month…" his voice trailed away, hoping Jim could fill in the blanks without him having to spell it out. There was silence on the line.

"Found them… together?" Pastor Jim asked, needing confirmation for the unsettling thought that seemed to creep into his mind.

"Yeah. I mean I had walked in on them together before but it… I tried to put an end to it but obviously I didn't because later…. They had gotten their own motel room together and by the time I found them they had both just come out of the shower and…. Oh, God. Jim, what the hell am I supposed to do with them?"

"I want to forgive them but I don't even know if I should. If I can. And I see the way they still look at each other and it turns my stomach." John's voice trembled slightly and he fell silent. He heard Pastor Jim's slow sigh through the phone. He waited for his friend to say something, anything. He couldn't stand the silence but he wasn't sure if he was prepared for what the pastor might say either.

* * *

Dean sighed and stretched in his seat at the back of the classroom, unfazed by the disapproving look of his teacher. His focus was elsewhere. He understood his father's suspicions and part of him was ashamed that John would even have to think such things. Still, there was another part of him that almost wished he had done something to actually warrant last night's round of questioning. If he and Sam had met somewhere at least they could have spent some real time together. It would have been worth it despite John's reaction, especially because John would have behaved that way regardless.

Dean let his eyes slip shut and suddenly he was holding Sammy in his arms.

"I'm cold," Sam murmured softly. Dean pulled his little brother in closer, enveloping him with his warmth. He could feel the shivers that shook Sam's body subside. He smiled at his little brother and kissed the top of his head. The shrill noise of the passing bell cut through his daydream and he opened his eyes resentfully.

* * *

"I obviously failed them somehow for them to turn out like this. And then…" John took a deep breath before explaining the werewolf hunt to Pastor Jim. "I know if Bobby hadn't been there, I would have let my son die," he finished miserably.

"Why didn't you inform me of all this before it got so out of hand?" Jim asked.

"Can you blame me for not wanting to admit it was really going on?" John said. "But you're right. It really has gotten out of hand. And it's not even what _they're_ gonna do that's scaring me the most. I'm afraid of myself," John murmured the last part softly.

"It's not just the negligence on the last hunt but… Sam is young and stupid but Dean… Dean's going to be nineteen in a couple of days. Every time I see him I feel this rage start to boil inside of me. I never thought I'd hit my children but I've already beaten on Dean twice because of this, this anger that's festering."

"John, you've found yourself in a serious crisis. Please, come talk to me. Tell Dean to stay where he is. But take Sam with you so you don't have to worry about the two of them alone."

"And so I won't have an opportunity to hurt Dean again," John muttered.

"Yes, there's that too. So can I expect to see you soon?"

"Yeah. It's gonna take a while. We're in Massachusetts right now but we'll get there."

* * *

Susan waved Sam over to her table as he entered the cafeteria. He recognized Anthony (wearing more eyeliner and bright blue nail polish today) and a few of the other GSA members sitting with her.

"You okay?" Anthony asked at the downcast expression on Sam's face.

"Yeah. My dad just jumped down my throat last night because he thought I was off somewhere with, with my friend."

"Your boyfriend?" Anthony asked. Sam almost laughed out loud at that. Even though the feelings he had for Dean were more than platonic it was hard to think of him as a 'boyfriend'.

"I-I guess," Sam said after thinking it over for a minute. "What about you and your mom?" he asked Anthony.

"You mean has she come off the whole 'Tony, how could you do this to me?' thing? No. But she's kinda giving me the silent treatment right now which has its advantages. Suze, you're so lucky your parents are okay with you."

"Yeah, I know," Susan said. "I mean when I came out as bi my dad kinda did the denial 'it's just a phase' thing, actually that's still pretty much his stand on things. But my mom totally accepted me from the get-go."

"Wow, that is lucky," Sam murmured, suddenly struck by the thought of how his mother would react to him and his relationship with Dean. He hoped that she would accept him if she knew he was gay. But as wonderful and loving as Sam always pictured Mary, how could he expect her to accept a love affair between her two children?

"Hey, are you okay? You look a little spacy," Susan said gently.

"Y-Yeah, I'm --" His father's voice calling his name made him stop short. Sam shot out of his seat and flung around to see John Winchester in the middle of the cafeteria, coming towards him. "Dad! What are you doing here?"

"You and I are going out of town," John said shortly. Sam noticed his father disapprovingly taking in the sight of the students he was sitting with.

"Wait, what about Dean? Are we coming back this time?"

"Dean's going to stay while we go visit Pastor Jim for a few days," John explained quickly.

"But Dad, Pastor Jim's all the way in Minnesota!"

"Sam, we're not having this conversation right now. I already informed the office that you'll be absent for a few days. We'll be back soon enough."

* * *

Dean picked up the piece of motel stationary paper that had his father's messy scrawl across it. His heart leapt in his chest when he read the first line, but it quickly sank as he read the rest.

_I'm going to meet with Pastor Jim for a few days  
with Sam. Be back soon. Some extra crash is in the  
nightstand if you need it. Go to school.  
~ Dad_

* * *

_Thanks to rog457 for suggesting a larger role for Pastor Jim to play. Not quite what you had in mind, I'm sure, but you inspired me. :) I love and appreciate all your reviews and comments, so keep them coming! More soon.  
~aep _


	62. Blue Earth

**62. Blue Earth**

"Dad, why are we going all the way to Minnesota without Dean?" Sam asked quietly as the sun began to fall from the sky. John bristled but chose to respond.

"Because I need to speak to Pastor Jim, face to face."

"Then why not take Dean too, or let me st--?" Sam stopped short. He knew exactly why John didn't want to leave both his sons alone in one place. He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window. A brittle silence settled over them, ready to crack at any moment.

"Why?" John whispered.

"Why what?" Sam asked, turning to look at his father. The sun finally sank beneath the ground and John flicked on the headlights. They cut a swath of brightness across the black road.

"Why are you and Dean…?" He couldn't fully voice the question he wanted to ask.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked. He could feel a dull flush rise in his cheeks as he tried to think of how he could ever explain what he felt to his father. Shame filled his belly like a scalding liquid. He wasn't embarrassed by the feelings he had for his brother and yet he almost couldn't bear to admit them to John. He wondered if his hesitancy had something to do with wanting to protect his father from the truth or if he just didn't want to have to defend himself and his brother.

"The truth. I-I want the truth." That was a flat-out lie. John was terrified of the truth but he still needed to know.

"I don't know, Dad. I just, I just love him," Sam whispered, eyes set firmly on the road ahead.

"You love him?" John could feel his stomach writhing uncomfortably. He accelerated the car slightly.

"Yeah, I do. I'm, I'm in love with h--"

"Stop." John pushed down harder on the gas until they were speeding down the empty road at breakneck speed.

"You asked for the truth," Sam muttered. The car swerved on a thin patch of ice. "Dad, slow down!" he shouted.

* * *

The door opened. "Hey, sorry I didn't call but --" Dean started.

"Don't worry about it. What's going on?" Tara asked concernedly as she held the door open for Dean. He walked inside, pulling his father's note from his pocket and uncrumpling it. He handed it to Tara.

"I came home, well back to the motel, and this note was the only thing left in the place," he explained as Tara scanned the note quickly.

"Wow, great communication skills, your dad," Tara said sarcastically. She gestured for Dean to take a seat on the couch and he did. She sat down beside him.

"Better than nothing but, I don't know, it kind of freaked me out," Dean said with a shrug. "It just kinda feels like…"

"You've been abandoned?" Dean shrugged again but didn't correct her. He preferred her to be the one to say it out loud so he didn't have to. He gave a small nod after a moment. The phone rang, startling them both. Tara stood and rushed into the kitchen to grab it.

"Hi baby. No, don't worry about it. Dean's here right now and he might be staying a while. I still wanna see you. Okay. Call me when you get off work. Love you. Bye." She hung up the phone and came back into the living room. "That was Diane," she explained.

"I should go --" Dean started to get up but Tara stopped him, laying a hand on his chest and pushing him back down.

"No! Don't even think about it. You need to talk, so talk." She softened slightly and laid a reassuring hand on his as she sat back down.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Why are you so… perfect?" Tara burst out laughing at that.

"I'm far from perfect," she assured him.

"You know what I mean. I didn't know it was possible for someone to be so understanding and accepting. What's your story? How does someone get to be like you?"

"We're not here to talk about me right now. Let's deal with your problems before we go into my life's story, okay?"

"Fine. But I do wanna hear your story sometime. I will get to, right?" Dean asked with a smile. Tara nodded. Dean leaned back against the couch and sighed. "Thank you, Tara." She gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead before sinking back into the couch beside him. Dean glanced at his father's wrinkled note that sat on the coffee table. _"Go to school."_

"I think I'm gonna drop out," Dean said quietly after a minute.

"Why?"

"I'm gonna be nineteen in less than a week and I've never been in one place long enough to pass a single grade. I don't really see the point. School's just not really my thing. I don't have the brain for it anyway. Sammy's the geek in the family. Besides, it's not like I'm ever gonna need a high school diploma for my résumé. Hunting ghosts isn't exactly your average day job."

"You have a point there," Tara said.

* * *

The car veered off the road, skidding to a halt just inches from a giant oak tree. "Jesus," Sam whispered, fingers still clutching at the dashboard even though the Impala had stopped.

"Sam, how the hell can you be in l--?"

"Maybe it'd be better if we just didn't talk for the rest of the car ride, okay?" John hated the fact that his fourteen-year-old was telling him what to do but he couldn't exactly argue with that suggestion. He put the car in reverse and slowly got it back onto the road.

"We'll be there in a couple more hours," he muttered. Sam nodded.

Almost two hours had passed in dead silence. A large sign welcoming them to Blue Earth, Minnesota told them that they were finally here. Before long, the steeple of the church loomed out of the darkness and John parked the car. They surpassed the church steps, moving around instead to the back of the sanctuary where a single door set into the stone stood waiting for them. John rapped on it and a second later the two of them could hear footsteps. The door swung open to reveal Jim Murphy.

It had been years since Sam had seen Pastor Jim and the premature gray streaks and wrinkles that accentuated his features so strikingly surprised him slightly. But judging by the look on Jim's face, he was startled by how much Sam had changed too. He put a hand on both John and Sam's shoulders and gave a small smile, welcoming them inside.

* * *

_Factual Randomness: Check out The Jolly Green Giant [a 55 ft. statue welcoming people to the real town of Blue Earth, MN.] This made me lol for some reason.  
As always, sorry that lately it's been taking me a while to get the new chapters up. Anyway, comments/reviews, pretty please!  
~aep_


	63. Blind Vision

**63. Blind Vision**

"But if you do drop out now what are you going to do? You said it yourself, the work you do isn't exactly a day job. Won't you be bored out of your mind between hunts?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. But I'm just so sick of going through the motions like this. It feels so pointless."

"I'm the last person to be advising someone to stay in school seeing as I dropped out myself, but you and your family are just so isolated."

"You dropped out?" Dean asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah. Sixteen years old, depressed out of my mind, couldn't get out of bed. I hated school so I finally just quit. I took a year off and before getting my GED and going to college," Tara told him.

"I didn't know that," Dean said. Tara nodded and shrugged dismissively. "Tell me more."

"Dean, we're here to talk about you." She stood up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen.

"Come on, Tara. How can I really call you a friend when I don't know a damn thing about you? It's like I'm just using you as a shrink or something. Tell me what you studied in college," he called over to her over the opening and closing of cabinet doors.

"Found it! Okay, well I got my degree in social work," she started as she made her way back into the room with a giant bag of chips under her arms. She popped it open and sat back down. She offered the bag to Dean before continuing.

"And now I work in a state facility for children and teens placed in the system because of abuse. I absolutely hate that place. Like ninety percent of the staff people are pure evil. No joke. There's this one girl who was raped repeatedly by her father for years. You can just imagine how traumatized she is by him but the administration forces her to have weekly visitations with the bastard."

"Christ. How can you stay and deal with all that?"

Tara grabbed a handful of chips from the bag and began picking at them. "I love those kids. I don't have any real power but I can't just leave 'em there without anyone to lean on."

"I think I'm starting to get why you're so easy to talk to."

* * *

"John, why don't you head to my office? I'll be there in a minute. I'm just gonna show Sam a room that he can rest in," Jim said. John nodded and made his way to the front of the dark sanctuary, stepping through a door that led downstairs to Jim's room.

Jim led Sam in the opposite direction, through a door and down a dimly lit hall. There was absolute silence except for the sound of their footsteps reverberating on the stone floor. Jim stopped abruptly and pushed open a rough-hewn wooden door. Sam stepped inside the room. It was small and completely empty except for a cross hanging beside a grimy window and a tiny cot pressed against the other wall.

"Sorry about the accommodations," Pastor Jim said.

Sam shook his head. "No, it's fine. Thanks," he muttered awkwardly. Pastor Jim wished him a good night and closed the door softly behind him. Sam stood in the center of the room for a moment before taking a seat on the stiff little bed. He sighed deeply and laid himself down. He shut his eyes and, despite the uncomfortable lodgings, fell asleep quickly.

He heard the roaring of an engine and opened his eyes to see that he was in the Impala, slouched in the back seat. John was in the driver's seat and Dean sat beside him. The car moved faster and faster with each minute until it spun out of control and went crashing into the large oak they had passed on the way to Blue Earth. Sam watched as his father and brother were thrust forward upon impact, smashing into the windshield and creating web-like cracks in the glass where their heads had hit it.

"No!" Sam shouted. "Dad! Dean? Dean!" His legs were pinned in place by his father's seat. He groaned in pain as he tried to free himself. He finally managed it and pushed open the car door, spilling out and scrambling to his feet. He tried to put weight on his left foot but couldn't; it hurt too badly. He leaned against the car as he traveled around it. The hood and John's door were crushed like tin foil. He tried desperately to pull open his father's door but couldn't. He rushed around to the other side, limping from the pain in his leg. Dean's door hadn't sustained as much damage and he was able to yank it open.

There was too much blood. Sam ripped his coat and sweatshirt off, using them to slow the blood gushing freely from his brother's head. He pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring the sting of the biting wind. He crawled across his brother's legs to reach his father. He pressed the cloth to John's head, still holding the sweater to Dean's. His father stirred slightly. He spluttered up some blood and squinted at his youngest son.

"Leave him. Let him die," John gasped out coldly.

"No! Dad, Dad, no," Sam whispered. John mustered up enough strength push his son off of him and rip the sweatshirt away from Dean's bleeding forehead. He gave Sam another push, knocking him out of the car and into the snow.

"He deserves what he gets. And so do I," John murmured as he cast away the shirt that Sam had tied around his head. "I won't save him and neither will you." John gasped and coughed, more blood flew from his mouth and he collapsed on Dean's lap.

"NO!" Sam cried out. He gasped and woke up, sweat soaking his clothes. "J-Just a dream," he whispered to himself. But it hadn't felt like a dream at all. It had been so vivid that the pain in his leg was still there, throbbing as if it really had been crushed in the car. He shook his head and sighed, gingerly pressing a hand to his aching shin. "It was only a dream," he told himself again. The crash itself had been terrifying but his father's behavior was what really scared him. "Dad wouldn't do that," he tried to convince himself. _Would he?_

* * *

"Don't worry, I'll keep myself busy. I'll work on the GED thing, take the test and move on." Dean assured Tara.

"Do you think you'll ever try going to college?" she asked. Dean scoffed and shook his head. There was a knock on the door.

"It's me," a woman's voice called. "Sorry I didn't call, my cell died." Tara went to answer the door. She walked back into the room behind a tall, fair-haired woman holding a steaming box of pizza with a thin stack of paper plates on top of it.

"Diane, this is Dean. Dean, Diane," Tara said. Dean stood as Diane plopped the box onto the coffee table and they shook hands. She took a seat in the armchair across from the sofa and handed Dean and Tara a plate before opening the pizza box. The three of them managed to finish the entire thing in under an hour.

Tara stood lazily from her seat beside Dean and sunk down into Diane's lap. Diane smiled and kissed Tara lightly on the neck. Dean felt a small pang of jealousy. He wished he could hold Sam like that without having to worry about anything. Hell, he wished he could just _see_ Sam. He cleared his throat and spoke.

"So, um, how's Bobby doing?"

"I haven't talked to Uncle Bobby in a while actually," Diane told him. She opened her mouth to speak again but no sound came out. Suddenly she began to shiver and her eyelids slid shut. Tara jumped off of her lap and knelt down in front of her.

"Baby?" she whispered.

"What's happening?" Dean asked in alarm. Diane's breathing was ragged and she was moaning as if in pain.

"Vision," Tara said. The trembling quickly gave way to convulsions. "Help me hold her down. She's gonna fall out of the chair." Dean stood, jumping over the coffee table and restraining Diane. Her groans faded, soon replaced by shrieks.

"I, I've never seen her this bad before," Tara told Dean, a clear note of panic in her voice. Suddenly the screaming stopped and Diane was perfectly still. A tear slid down her cheek and her eyes opened slowly.

"Di, what is it?" Tara asked softly.

"I-I don't know. Something hid the full vision from me. I fought against it but I still couldn't see. Something bad is coming. It's after you Dean, but we're all in danger."

* * *

_Dun dun dun. A cliff-hanger. I know I'm cruel. And once again, feeling some guilt for how long it's been taking me to update. Thanks for stickin' with me. Reviews, if you please! They are my fuel, like chocolate and music and giant fluffy blankets... *starts humming "My Favorite Things"* Love ya!  
~aep _


	64. Overheard

**64. Overheard**

"Well, I'm here. Now what?" John asked the moment Jim entered the office. "How do I fix this, Jim?"

"It's not up to you to fix," Jim said gently.

"Please, don't get preachy about this," John warned. The pastor smiled and shook his head as he took a seat behind his desk. "I didn't come here to see you as a priest, I came to see you as my friend."

"Duly noted. But I still have to say it; you don't have the power to fix this. They do. But they're not going to change unless they want to. So right now the only thing you have power over is yourself and how you treat your boys."

"That's the thing, I don't think they want to change. And, and I don't know how to control myself. I really don't."

* * *

Sam couldn't stand the trapped feeling of being in that small room. He stood up, his leg still aching slightly as he made his way to the door. He followed the dark hallway back out into the sanctuary. Moonlight filtered in through the stained glass casting an underwater glow in the cavernous hall. The pain in his leg finally faded as he reached the door that led downstairs to Jim's office. He went down the steps slowly and silently. He followed the dull hum of voices until he was standing with his ear pressed against the door. He could hear his father's frustrated voice.

"Jim, you know me. How do you expect me to just turn the other cheek? Hell, I'd like to, but I can't."

"I'm not asking you to ignore what's happened or what might happen. Just take a step back. You love your sons. They're your blood, they're all you have left of Mary. As painful as it is to see them… experimenting this way, you have to --" Jim's voice was quickly cut off by John's.

"They're not 'experimenting'! I honestly think they think that they're in love." The bitter note of disgust in John's voice stung at Sam. He stepped away from the door quietly and started to make his way back to his room but something stopped him. He turned back and pressed his ear to the office door once again.

"Do you honestly think you'd let that happen again?" he heard Jim ask.

"I never thought it'd happen in the first place. How do I know that it won't again? Jim, it was like I wasn't even there. I was watching it happen and I almost didn't care."

_He didn't care? What's he talking about? He blew a fuse when he found us,_ Sam thought to himself.

"A part of me actually wanted to see Dean hurt by that wolf. I was gonna let him die…" John continued speaking but Sam could no longer comprehend what he overheard. His mind raced and everything suddenly made sense. He felt so stupid that he hadn't connected it all sooner. He finally understood why Bobby had left so abruptly and why Dean had been so evasive about the entire hunt.

He heard movement from within the office and quickly backed away from the door. Within seconds he was flat-out running back to his room, heart pounding in his throat. A surge of fury shot through him and he kicked at the mattress, knocking it clear off of its metal frame. _How could Dad do that? And how could Dean hide it from me?!_

_"Leave him. Let him die,"_ John had ordered Sam in the dream. _"He deserves what he gets. And so do I…"_ Sam knew his brother didn't deserve to die but in that moment he honestly didn't know what his father deserved.

* * *

Tara gently lifted Diane from her seat and began to carry her from the living room. Dean rushed to Diane's other side, supporting some of her weight. He could feel her body shaking with silent sobs. Tara opened a door on the left and flicked on the light, illuminating the small bedroom with its queen-size mattress in the corner and disheveled covers. The two of them supported Diane and lowered her onto the bed.

"Could you excuse us for a minute, Dean?" Tara asked softly.

"'Course," Dean said, quickly standing and walking from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. As he made his way back to the living room he could hear Diane's sobs grow louder.

"Tara, it still hurts. I can't stop it," he heard her murmur. "It's coming and I-I don't know what or, or when but it will come for us. It's so angry, vengeful. A-And it's… powerful. I'm scared."

"Shh, baby. It-It's gonna be okay," Tara whispered.

"No! It's not. That's the whole point."

* * *

There was a soft rap at the door. "May I come in?" Pastor Jim's voice called softly. Sam didn't reply. There was another knock before the door opened tentatively. The two of them made eye contact. Jim stepped inside hesitantly, noticing the mattress on the floor. Without a word, he stepped forward and put it back on its frame, taking a seat on it and gesturing for Sam to do the same. Sam shook his head, standing firmly against the opposite wall with clenched fists.

"Well, your father and I were talking…. He told me about everything that's been going on and --"

"Please tell me this isn't some lecture. Or, or a sermon. 'Cause I really don't need to hear all about my impending trip to hell."

"Sam, that's not what I was going to say," Pastor Jim said with such sincerity that Sam's fists loosened slightly. Sam chewed on his lip and waited for Jim to continue. "I'm not here to talk _at_ you. I want to listen to what you have to say."

"I don't wanna have to defend myself to you," Sam muttered wearily.

"That's not what I'm asking you to do," Jim assured him. "Just talk to me," he said simply.

"What did you and my father talk about?" Sam asked abruptly.

"That's private. And anything _we_ speak about is completely confidential too."

"Look, no offense, but I don't really want to talk to you right now. I'd much rather be having a conversation with my father about his own in-indiscretions…" Jim gave Sam a slightly perplexed look. "I heard you talking. I heard him tell you about what he did to Dean."

"Oh," Pastor Jim said softly.

"_Oh?_ That's it? That's all you have to say? Dean could have died! Sounds like he would have if there hadn't been someone else with them on that damn hunt!" Sam yelled furiously. His fists were balled up tightly again just thinking about it. He could feel the sting of his fingernails digging into his palms but he didn't care.

"Sam, calm down. Everything turned out all right. I'm not saying that you should excuse your father's behavior but try to understand where's he's coming from," Jim said imploringly.

"I know where he's coming from. I see the pain and disgust a-and anger. I-I don't know how the fuck I'd react if I knew my kids were in some ince-incestuous relationship but I know I'd never put them in harm's way because of it."

"How _would_ you react if you were a man in your father's position?" Jim asked. Sam shrugged and kicked at the wall behind him.

"Dunno. Probably get them some professional help. Not that that's what I want but I could at least sympathize with him if he did that instead of standing by and letting Dean get mauled." Sam squirmed under Jim's calculating look. "What?" he finally asked.

Jim stood slowly and crossed the small room until he was only a few inches from Sam. He made to put a sympathetic hand on the boy's shoulder but Sam quickly sidestepped him. "If you know what you're doing is wrong, can't you make steps toward stopping this behavior?"

"I never said --"

"You assume you're going to hell and you say that if you were in your father's place you would seek out professional help for you and Dean. So, well, it sounds to me like you think what you're doing is wrong."

"We're not hurting anyone," Sam muttered, avoiding eye contact with the pastor.

"You're hurting your father."

* * *

"He's a good kid, saved a lot of lives and if he manages to survive this he'll keep saving 'em but… I wish you never met him. It's not safe to be in a hunter's life."

Dean tried to block out their words but the shock of everything that had happened seemed to have sharpened his senses; their voices rang too clearly in his ears. He sighed and stood up from the couch, making his way back down the hallways to their room. He knocked on the door and a moment later Tara stood before him.

"Look, um, sorry to interrupt but I really think I should go."

"No, Dean, you don't have to," Tara said softly.

"Yeah, I really do. Diane's right. Associating with hunters isn't exactly the best idea," Dean muttered. Tara rolled her eyes slightly but nodded reluctantly.

"Fine. But please, call at least. Keep in touch." She waited for some response from him. "Okay?" she pressed after a moment. Dean nodded. "Promise?" He nodded again and allowed himself to be enveloped in her warm hug.

She walked him to the door, wrapping him in another hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Be safe," she whispered in his ear.

"You too."

* * *

_Yay! A slightly longer chapter than usual. Rather dialogue-heavy but I hope y'all don't mind. Keep all your lovely reviews coming. They brighten my day. Love you guys!_

_How are you all dealing with the Hellatus? January 21st can't come fast enough!!!  
~aep _


	65. Temporary

**65. Temporary**

Dean writhed in the small bed, unable to sleep. What was coming for him? And what if it hurt Tara and Diane? Were Sam and his father in danger too? He rubbed a hand over his face and frowned. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his head in his hands. Before long the weak rays of sun had risen over the ground. He stood, walking out of the room and walking briskly to the bus stop.

He tried to drown out the rambunctious noise all around him during the ride and was the first to get off when they had arrived at school. Walking purposefully into the office he got the attention of a plump secretary.

"Can I help you?" she asked sweetly.

"I wanna drop out," Dean said bluntly.

"Oh." Her face fell slightly. "Well, um, you have to be sixteen or over to legally drop out and if you're under eighteen you need the permission of your parent or guard--"

"I'm eighteen," he cut in.

"Oh, okay. Well you need to go to the board of education," she began hesitantly.

"Where is it?"

"Look, if you're really considering this you need to speak to a school counselor," the secretary told him.

"I'm not considering it, I'm doing it," he said resolutely. She shook her head.

"That's all very well and good but it's our policy. As in… mandatory." Her tone wasn't harsh or obnoxious, just matter-of-fact. Dean took a deep breath and nodded, walking out of the main office and down the hall to the guidance counselor's office.

He took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. Being abrupt and rude wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to make this as smooth as possible. He knocked on the door and it was quickly opened by a woman in her thirties with dark brown hair held back in a ponytail. She gave him a kind smile and ushered him inside.

"Hello, I don't think we've met before. My name is Ms. Patterson. What can I help you with?" she asked. He introduced himself and explained how he was a fairly new student. _What's a respectable and reasonable reason to quit that she would buy?_ he thought quickly to himself.

"I was hoping you could point me in the right direction to drop out of school. Um, let me explain," he added quickly at the expression on her face. She looked skeptical but remained silent. "Um my dad is in the army so we move around from base to base a lot. He tries to keep my brother and in public schools as much as possible, you know give us a little slice of a normal life and all," he began to lie wildly, but convincingly. "I'm eighteen now and I've sort of had enough so I figured I'd drop out, do a little homeschooling and get my GED."

She nodded slowly. "Well legally you have every right to quit though I hate to see students go like that. You're a senior, you're so close to graduating and --"

"Yeah, I know but I'm really set in my decision," Dean said, knee bouncing slightly from impatience.

* * *

_"You're hurting your father."_ The words rang in Sam's ears. Though he had known on some level the pain and shame his father felt because of him, having it stated so plainly to his face was jarring. Pastor Jim had left shortly after that, telling Sam to get some rest and that he would be back to talk with him again later on.

He sat in the corner of the bed, knees bent up against his chest. He laid his head down on them and sighed. It was useless to try and get some sleep; rattled thoughts were raging through him: guilt at what Pastor Jim had said, fury at the discovery of his father's betrayal, and an ache to see his brother.

He glanced at his watch; five thirty in the morning. The cold winter sun would begin to rise soon. Sure enough, the tiny window began to filter in a dull glow. Sam closed his eyes and sighed again. A soft knock on his door made him jolt. He looked down at his watch again and realized he must have actually fallen asleep. He cleared his throat.

"Come in." Pastor Jim gave Sam a small smile as he entered the room. Sam tried to reciprocate but he couldn't seem to make those muscles move.

"Your dad is gonna sleep in a little but I was wondering if you wanted to come out and have breakfast with me. There's this little diner a few blocks down that's really good."

"Um, o-okay," Sam said with a small nod. He grabbed his coat off the floor and stood up, tugging it on as he walked towards the door. He followed Pastor Jim out of the church and to an old beat-up sedan. They got in and stayed silent for the short car ride until they arrived. Sam surveyed the little restaurant skeptically. The place looked a giant roll of tin foil with windows and neon lights.

"I know what you're thinking, but the food is actually really good," Pastor Jim told him quietly as they walked towards it. He held the door open for Sam and they sat down in a booth at the far end of the place. They placed their orders with the waitress that walked by a moment later. Once again, silence settled over them. Finally, Pastor Jim cleared his throat and spoke.

"Look we're not going to talk about your situation here and I'm not going to try for awkward small talk, well not too much anyway. But I haven't seen you since you were, like, ten. John told me he allowed you to go on your first hunt a while back." Sam was slightly surprised but also relieved by Jim's candor. Sam started to explain about his experience hunting, that while he found it exhilarating to a certain extent he knew it wasn't really for him. The waitress arrived with Pastor Jim's scrambled eggs and Sam's french toast.

"Yeah, I just prefer the whole school thing to the actual hunting," Sam said as he took a bite of his french toast. He chewed slowly before speaking again. "Of course we're never in one place long enough to really get much done. But this new school I'm at has the country's first gay-straight alliance. So I joined that. The people are really nice." He studied Jim's face carefully. "So, being a pastor and all, do you have a thing for hating gay people?"

Jim smiled and shook his head. "No. I know I'm probably supposed to but I just can't. I mean, if you take the bible literally you'll be stoning prostitutes and homosexuals in the town square, never eating shellfish (which is one thing I couldn't live without), and there would be no adultery."

"You advocate adultery?" Sam asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, no not really. But I ask you; where would daytime television be without it?" Sam laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. It actually made his muscles ache a little; he felt so out of practice.

On the car ride back to the church Sam felt something close to peacefulness. He knew the feeling would soon dissipate upon arrival at the church. He wasn't looking forward to discussing Dean or seeing his father and yet that small, temporary feeling of calmness was still comforting to him. "Um, thanks Pastor Jim," he said softly.

* * *

Dean's lies were becoming a blur, he know longer really knew what he was saying. But judging from the look on Patterson's face she really seemed to be buying. "So, what do I need to do?" he finally asked. She took a deep breath and pulled open a desk drawer, withdrawing a small sticky note pad from it. She grabbed a pen from off of her desk and scribbled something down. She handed the note to him: the address to the board of education.

"Thank you," Dean said earnestly, quickly pocketing the note and walking from the office.

* * *

_So question, comments, reviews… They make me mucho happy. *Wink/Nudge* And am I the only one that's likin' Pastor Jim here? He just seemed like such a cool guy in the show even though we saw so little of him before Meg slit his friggin' throat. :(_

_Well, on that happy note - Hope y'all have a wonderful holiday! See you in the new year! (Maybe before that if I get another chapter out quickly.)  
_


	66. The Argument

**66. The Argument**

Dean walked out of the Board of Ed building feeling like he had finally obtained a little freedom. But Sam was still gone and Diane's mysterious vision was looming over his head like lightning waiting to strike. He got back to the motel and called Tara.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I didn't know if you'd be home or not," Dean started. "Is everything okay? Is Diane feeling better? Has she seen anything else?" He took a deep breath and told himself to stop pelting Tara with questions.

"We're okay. Well, um, Diane isn't doing too well. That vision… I don't know. It's like it damaged her. And no, she's, she's just as in the dark about it as we are." Dean hated to hear that note of hopelessness in her tone, especially knowing that he was the one that brought all this upon her.

* * *

Tara so appreciated the sincere concern in Dean's voice. She just wanted to see him and hug him; comfort him and let him comfort her.

"I, uh, I dropped out of school, officially. So, that's one less thing I have to worry about right now."

"That's good. I've taken some time off work and so has Diane, obviously. She's still got this horrible headache," Tara said quietly from her seat on the couch where she was all curled up.

"I'm so sorry," Dean said solemnly.

"Dean, it's not your fault," Tara told him. She could practically feel Dean holding his breath, like he was forcing himself not to speak. "Dean, it's really not your fault. Diane's gift is powerful and dangerous no matter what. She probably would have gotten some glimpse of this even if I hadn't known you."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Dean asked sadly, disbelievingly.

"You know, when we first met I told you that it was good that you felt guilt, that it meant you have a conscience. I take it back. You have _way_ too much of a conscience, okay? Please try to think objectively and let that determine your guilt… quota or whatever."

His little laugh brought a smile to her face. "Well, since we're both playing hookey, you wanna come over?" she asked. Another length of silence before Dean spoke.

"I, I don't think I sh--"

"Dean. Enough with the guilt! Seriously. You've taken it to a whole new level. I want you to come over. You're my friend and we're both in this scary situation and I think it would be nice if we could spend some time together. Freak out together, calm ourselves down together, you know?" Once again she couldn't help smiling at his laugh.

"Um," Dean started tentatively. _Come on, come on,_ Tara thought to herself. "O-Okay," he finally said.

* * *

Pastor Jim opened the side door of the church to let Sam through. "Okay, so if you're not ready for this that's alright. We can do it later. But do you think that maybe you and your father would like to talk? And if you do, would you like to be alone or do you want a mediator?"

Sam almost felt as if his head was spinning at all the choices he had before him. He wasn't sure if he was ready for any of them. But then the thought of what his father had done to Dean crept into his mind and he knew he had to talk to him.

"I'll talk to him, alone," Sam said after a moment. Pastor Jim looked a bit concerned. "I'll give you permission to barge in if you hear furniture being thrown, okay?" Jim chuckled and nodded.

They walked down past Pastor Jim's office to the room John was staying in. "Okay, well I'll be in my office," Jim told Sam softly. Sam nodded and waited for Jim to walk away before knocking on the door.

"Come in," he heard his father say. He turned the doorknob slowly and stepped inside. A moment of sympathy settled over Sam as he took in his father's haggard appearance. It was clear that the guilt that Sam and Dean so often felt had been inherited from John. But it only lasted a moment, replaced by a spark of anger that grew until he was suddenly yelling.

"How could you do that to Dean?! I don't care what we've done to shame you or whatever. You're our father! How could you fucking _abandon_ him like that?!" He was expecting John to fire back, remind him of the travesty he and his brother had committed. Nothing. "Say something! Defend yourself or… Just say _anything_!"

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" John's voice was level, not raised as it normally would be. It surprised Sam a little. "There's no excuse for what I've done," he paused, "But there's no excuse for what Dean's done either."

"So now we get to it -- blaming Dean for everything. I may be young but he didn't manipulate me or seduce me!"

"You can't understand, you really are too y--" John began softly.

"Bullshit!" Sam shouted. "I'm not too young! We fell in love. _We're in love._ Both of us. I know how fucked up it sounds but it's true and we can't help it."

"Fine. You want me to treat you and Dean equally? Then you're both… deviants." John's voice was still unnervingly calm and detached.

"And whose fault is that?" Sam spat. He didn't really blame his father for how he felt about Dean. He loved Dean wholeheartedly and wouldn't want it any other way. But he needed to hurt his father.

"Do you ever think maybe, just maybe, if you left us alone while you were off fighting your monsters that we would've turned out like this? You've isolated us, you uproot us constantly. And even though you're the one who's supposed to take care of us, you're never with us!"

Sam took pleasure in watching his father's face contort with anger and self doubt. He paused, expecting his father to break through and defend himself but he didn't.

"Maybe if you'd been around a little more your sons would've been normal. But no, you're out on your vendetta to kill whatever killed mom. But Mom's gone and _we're_ here and it's like you don't even fucking care!"

John shot forward and backhanded Sam across the face. It stung so badly that for a moment it felt like someone had slammed his cheek onto a hot stove. He clenched his jaw but refused to make a sound.

John's hand fell limp at his side and he looked at his son. Sam's eyes were set on his, stubborn and angry. His cheek was scarlet but it was like he didn't care. They stood there in silence. It was the first time he had ever hit his youngest son.

* * *

Tara walked into the bedroom with a glass of water for Diane. Diane shook her head and buried it in her pillow. "Baby, you haven't drunk anything in over a day. I know it hurts but you have to," Tara whispered, laying a hand on Diane's shoulder. Diane just shook her head again. "What can I do?" Tara begged.

"N-Nothing. It's just getting worse. The vision's still in there somewhere but, but I can't get it and it's… My, my head's on fire. I can't think or, I c-can't, can't…" Diane's voice faded and a raspy moan escaped her lips. Tara watched as tears streamed down her partner's face. "D-Dean's coming tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah. You heard me on the phone?" she asked. Diane gave a small nod. "Is that okay?" Tara asked.

"He, He's confused and scared too. I-I understand," she murmured, her face screwed up in pain. "B-But, can you just stay with me 'til he gets here? Please?" Tara nodded and sat down on the bed. Diane's hand slowly reached up for Tara's arm, pulling her close. Tara laid down and wrapped her arms around her. She held Diane tightly to her, calming her quiet sobs.

* * *

_I know that up until now I've strictly stuck to the perspectives of the Winchesters but I kinda feel like Tara and Diane deserve a little of the spotlight now too. Hope it didn't feel forced or jarring or something. What do you think?_

_Also, I realize this is an annoying cry for attention that just about everyone is shouting from the treetops lately but I have myself a twitter account: __BrokenSilence37__. If you guys decide to follow me I'll make an effort to keep you posted on how the writing is going. :) Look out for the tag: #WaywardSons ;)_

_Anyway, love to all!  
~aep {aka the Master of Long Obnoxious Author's Notes} _


	67. Protection

**67. Protection**

Neither of them moved until finally Sam just shook his head and walked out of the room. Pastor Jim stepped from his office as Sam passed. "What happ--"

"No, I… No," Sam muttered as he sped back to his room. He slammed the door behind him and burst out crying. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to banish the tears that were falling from them.

While the actual slap had been shocking he had almost been anticipating it too. But that wasn't what was really upsetting him. John had been so unfeeling. Sam had watched his face betray some of his emotions and yet John had barely said a word. He would have preferred shouting to this new silence. It felt like his father had given up somehow, given up on his sons.

* * *

Tears began to pool in Tara's eyes as she heard Diane's quiet moans grow louder. "It-It's trying to, to claw through and show me but I can't see. I c-can't see it," Diane groaned. She fell silent for a moment then whimpered in pain. Tara didn't know what to say or do. She just held her girlfriend tighter to her and kissed her softly on the neck.

Finally, Diane's body began to go limp. Tara kissed her temple gently, silently thanking whatever force was out there for letting Diane finally get some rest. She stayed in bed with her until she suddenly awoke, only an hour later. Diane gasped and shot up in bed.

"What is it?!" Tara asked in alarm.

"The pain's gone," Diane whispered. She burst out laughing and tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks.

"Di, I'm so glad," Tara said, wrapping her arms around Diane in a warm hug. "But, what does it mean? Is the threat gone or --"

"I have no clue. And to be honest, I don't care right now. I can't. Please, let's worry about it later, for now just… Just kiss me."

* * *

Jim stood tentatively at John's door. John gave a small wave for him to enter. Pastor Jim was silent, waiting for the man before him to speak. Finally, John did.

"I wish I never found out. Wish I never had my suspicions, that I never knew," he said dejectedly. He rubbed a hand over his face and took a seat on the small bed behind him. Jim sat down on an old wooden chair across from John.

"What if you didn't?" Jim asked softly. John gave him a puzzled look. "What if you didn't know? What if I could get them to stop and you wouldn't have to remember what they had done?"

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I know a hoodoo priestess. But she practices more than hoodoo. She's been all around the world studying with different shamans and learning all kinds of witchcraft. She's brilliant. She could make you forget. There's no guarantee that it'll work or that it'll last forever but… What are you thinking?" Pastor Jim asked at the indiscernible expression on John's face.

"How much would I forget?" John asked after a long time.

"Anything pertaining to the intimacy of the relationship between your sons. It's safe. You would still know everything else but that part would be… sort of sifted out."

"How do you know about all this?" John asked skeptically.

"A young girl in my parish was raped when she was seven. Her parents begged me to help her. I knew how powerful Tina was so I asked her if she could do anything for the girl and she told me. I explained how _unorthodox_ her work was. The parents agreed to it and Tina healed their daughter. She made her forget. That girl is a happy twenty-six-year-old now. She has a good husband and a newborn."

John sat, lost in thought. "She was a child. A child should never have to remember going through something like that. But I, I brought this upon myself."

"No, John you didn't. And this wouldn't be for you. This would be to keep your sons safe. I believe in the power of prayer but even that can have its limits. I know you, John." Pastor Jim shook his head. "You'll never forgive them, especially Dean. And you said it yourself -- how do you know if you can stay in control?" John had no reply.

"At first I was holding out some hope but… I mean, I could hear Sam getting hit from in my office. I don't blame you for your rage, but you can't go on like this. All three of you are in danger with the way things are. So, what are you gonna do?" Jim asked.

John chewed on his lip and shook his head. "I don't know. It sounds too easy."

"It's not. There's an entire ritual that needs to be prepared. It can take months for the timing to be right. And there's still the chance that it won't last or that it won't work at all."

Though John couldn't bear the knowledge of what his sons had together anymore he was terrified by the thought of losing memories, losing a piece of himself. _And what if they don't stop? What if the witch makes me oblivious but it's still going on?_ he thought to himself.

"Could she make Sam and Dean forget about how they are with each other? Make all three of us forget, like it never happened?"

"The whole situation could just repeat itself if none of you knew what had already occurred," Jim said. "Besides, she won't do anything without consent."

"I'm their legal guardian. I give my con--"

"It doesn't work like that," Pastor Jim cut him off.

"How does it work?! No, never mind. Fine," John said furiously. "Then she can work her mojo on me _if_ Sam and Dean can be stopped. I know I can't change them but maybe you can." Pastor Jim nodded. John was infuriated by that simple nod. He needed more than that. "Can you stop them? Can you fix them?!" he urged.

"Yes, I think I can."

"You better damn well _know_! And, and since when have hunters been friendly with goddamn witches anyway?" John practically shouted.

"Tina's different. She _is_ a hunter."

* * *

"Shit, we should get dressed," Tara said, sitting up as she glanced at the clock. Diane rolled her eyes and pulled Tara back into bed. "Dean could be here any minute," she warned.

"Screw Dean," Diane said.

"No thanks. I'd rather screw you," Tara joked. She loved to see that smile return to Diane's face. "But seriously, what if he knocks on the door?" Diane laughed.

"_Then_ we'll get dressed. It won't kill the boy to wait five minutes." Tara giggled and laid her head against Diane's bare chest. She started to trail soft kisses down Diane's collarbone when their was a knock on the door. She jerked.

"See?" Tara said playfully as they both hopped out of bed and began to dress furiously. "Be right there!" she shouted. She finished dressing first and Diane gestured for her to go greet Dean. Tara closed the bedroom door behind her and combed her hands through her disheveled hair. She opened the door and gave a small smile to Dean as he entered.

He studied Tara for a minute, taking in the sight of her red cheeks, damp hair and the very visible hickey on her neck. "Diane's feeling better, I take it?" he asked with a smirk. Tara's cheeks burned an even deeper red as she nodded. "Should I come back later? Give you two some more time together?" he asked, only half-serious. Tara punched him lightly in the arm and shook her head. They entered the tiny living room together and Dean took a seat in the armchair.

Diane emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, swooping down and kissing Dean on the cheek before going to sit beside Tara on the couch.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better," Dean told her.

"Me too. But before you ask, I don't think this means we're all in the clear yet," Diane said gently.

Dean nodded. "I was kind of afraid of that."

* * *

"I really don't wanna talk right now!" Sam called to the knock on his door.

"Please?" Pastor Jim called back. Sam wiped at the drying tear tracks on his face and went to the door. He opened it a crack and saw Pastor Jim standing by himself.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. He opened the door wider for Pastor Jim to enter then snapped it closed again. "What?" Sam asked again.

Jim leaned against the wall and lowered himself down it with a groan. "Simply put, your dad's losing it."

"I'd say he lost it a while ago," Sam remarked quietly.

"Yeah, I'll give you that," Jim agreed. "But I never thought he would've hit you or agree to being the subject of a spell."

"What?" Sam asked, completely confused. Jim sighed slowly before speaking again.

"He doesn't want to know about you two --"

"A little late for that," Sam muttered.

"Exactly. Hence the spell. It'll take away any and all of his memories regarding your relationship."

"And what's so bad about that?" Sam asked.

"Well, for one thing, it won't work unless you and Dean cease the relationship you have going."

Sam stood dumbstruck for a moment. "You're bluffing," he finally said. Jim shook his head earnestly.

"Besides, even if that weren't the case, your father's not an idiot. He would figure it out all over again." Pastor Jim shifted slightly on the floor. "Look, I know how you feel about your brother. I know you don't want to give that up but you don't want to lose him either, do you? You know what John did to Dean. Your family hunts monsters for a living. They're what you two should be afraid of, not your father."

Sam sat down on the cot and took a deep breath. He hated that he was actually considering what he was hearing but he knew that Pastor Jim was right. He cradled his head in his hands and bit down hard on his lip.

"You know this is the only way Dean will ever be safe from John."

* * *

_Uh-oh!  
For once, that's pretty much all I have to say. Well, that and --  
Reviews please! *wink*_

_By the way… Happy New Year! 2010, Daaamn! I still sorta feel like I'm in 2003 or something. Where has the decade gone?! lol.  
~aep _


	68. Never Enough

**68. Never Enough**

Dean gave the two women before him strong hugs before leaving. It had been a few hours since he had arrived and the three of them had tried to predict what was coming but it was fruitless and only driving them all crazy. He got into the stolen car he had come in and made the long drive back to the motel.

The phone rang just as he entered the room. He moved swiftly to the bedside table and picked it up. "Yeah?" he said.

"Dean?" a soft voice spoke back to him.

"Sam! Oh my God, Sam! Where are you? Still at Pastor Jim's?" he asked. After all that talk of the danger that could be coming at any moment, he felt downright giddy just to hear Sammy's voice.

"Um, yeah. I was wondering if you could meet me here. It's, it's important." Dean couldn't pretend to ignore the ominous note in Sam's voice but he almost didn't care. He was just too happy to have some contact with his brother.

"Yeah, I'm leaving right now."

* * *

Sam sat freezing on the front steps of the church as he waited for Dean. His heart rose and fell with each passing car until finally one parked and Dean stepped out of it. They ran to each other and fell into a warm embrace. Sam sniffled a little before stepping out of the hug and taking Dean's hand. He guided him around to the side entrance of the church, releasing his hand and gesturing for him to enter. They made their way down to Pastor Jim's office, knocking on the door which opened a minute later. Pastor Jim welcomed Dean and shook his hand.

"Why don't we all go to Sam's room to speak privately?" Jim suggested. The boys nodded and followed him.

"So, um, what's going on?" Dean asked once they were in the room. Sam bit his lip and looked down at the floor. Pastor Jim quickly explained the situation. Sam glanced up occasionally to see his brother's expression become more and more troubled.

"I called Tina. We're lucky; the preparation for the spell will only take a week or so because of the alignment of the planets or something," Jim said.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "A week.... One week? Um, could Sam and I have a minute alone?" Pastor Jim nodded and left the room. The brothers' eyes met. "I don't know if I can do this," Dean whispered.

Tears began to fill Sam's eyes as he spoke. "I don't, I don't know if I can either but what choice do we have?"

"I don't think I can give you up," Dean said softly as he closed the small space between them and caressed Sam's face. "It's not enough time."

"It'll never be enough time," Sam whispered. He rested his head on Dean's shoulder as the tears began to fall. He lifted his head slowly and their lips met in a soft kiss. That gentle kiss soon gave way to a desperate one. "I don't know what else we can do. I wish we didn't have to. Oh God, I really wish it didn't have to be like this," Sam said against Dean's lips.

"Sh, shh," Dean urged, pressing his lips hard against Sam's to quiet him. They finally broke apart. "One week," Dean murmured. Sam nodded. "You'll have a chance at some, some semblance of a normal childhood and… And it'll save Dad," he said, trying to convince himself.

"What, what if we run away?" Sam asked suddenly, a wild look in his eyes.

"Dad's the only family we have. And we're all he has. If this is our only chance to remain a family then, then we have to take it," Dean said.

"I know how melodramatic it sounds but I… I don't think I could live without being able to kiss you and…" Sam's voice faded away. Dean felt the same way but he had to be strong for his little brother.

"Y-Yes, you can. You will." He pulled Sam into another hug, so tight, wishing he never had to let go.

"I know. I know we have to." Sam sighed. He leaned into the hug before slowly pulling out of it. He squeezed Dean's hand and opened the door. They walked slowly to Pastor Jim's office.

"Do it," Dean said the moment they had entered. Jim nodded slowly, eyes full of compassion.

"I'll tell your father," he paused for a minute. "You have one week left, and I know I shouldn't be saying this but… Make the most of it."

* * *

They barricaded the door with the frame of the cot, taking the mattress and laying it down on the floor. Dean slowly lifted Sam's shirt over his head and Sam did the same to Dean. Their hands became more impatient with every passing second and within a minute their bare bodies were pressed together. Dean gently lowered Sam onto the mattress and began to trail kisses down his neck and chest.

"Please, I just need you in-inside of me now. Right now," Sam moaned out, trying to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. Dean pressed his lips to Sam's before turning him around. He spit in his hand and slicked it over his finger before slowly sliding it inside of Sammy. "No," Sam whispered. "I want _you_ inside of me."

"You sure?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. Dean spit into his hand again, this time wiping his hand over the length of his hard cock. "Ready?" he asked. Sam nodded again. Dean pushed in, starting a slow rhythm that made them both moan.

"Faster," Sam begged. Dean obliged, building the pace and making their bodies move as one on the small bed. "I missed you so much. Missed this," Sam moaned out.

"Me too," Dean grunted. They began to move even faster together, ragged breathing and sparks flying through them. A tear fell from Dean's eye onto Sam's back. _After this week it's over. Forever. I'll never hold him again. Never make love to him…_ He wiped the teardrop off of Sam's back and kissed the place where it had been.

"Stop," Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I want to see your face," Sam whispered. Dean pulled out slowly and turned Sam around so he was lying on his back again. He carefully lifted one of Sam's legs over his shoulder and did the same to the other. He positioned himself at his little brother's entrance and pushed in again. They stared into each others' watery eyes before their lips met in a furious kiss. Tongues danced around each other, exploring and tasting after what felt like so long.

Dean found himself lost in the kiss, soon forgetting to move within his brother. "Keep going," Sam whispered, needing more. Dean obeyed, starting up a fast pace again. Sam gasped as his brother his that sweet spot inside of him. His eyes fell shut in ecstasy. "D-Deeper," he begged.

"I don't wanna hurt you," Dean gasped out. Of course he didn't want to hurt Sam but at the same time he was finding it more and more difficult to hold back.

"I kn-know you can give me more and I want you to. Please," Sam whispered. He could sense the slightest hesitation clinging to Dean and he hoped that this would get him to shed it. "Come on!" Dean finally let go, pushing harder and faster into his little brother. Their breathing became more ragged and the shimmer of sweat on their skin mingled together.

It felt so good to have their naked bodies moving as one. They had both craved it so desperately and finally they were together again. They could feel themselves approaching that moment of pure ecstasy, feel that excitement within each other.

"I'm almost --"

"Me too," Sam moaned out. A few more deep thrusts and they came in unison. Sam reveled in the feeling of Dean's come filling him. His big brother pulled out slowly and laid down on top of him. Dean could feel Sam's pearly white come pressed between their flesh. He breathed in deeply before sliding down to lick his little brother's chest clean.

They could feel each others' pounding heartbeats begin to slow. Dean moved back up to kiss Sam before resting his head in the crook of his brother's neck. They slowly drifted off to sleep, their bodies wound together, fitting perfectly.

"I love you… so much," Sam whispered just before he fell asleep. Dean hugged Sam tighter to him, kissing him on the forehead and letting himself rest, trying to forget the horrible truth of the situation they were in.

* * *

_Reunited… only to be torn apart. Well, on the plus side -- a little sex scene, though I don't think it's my best.  
Anyway, comments/reviews = Love… or hate, you know whatever you're feeling about all this.  
~aep _


	69. The Spell

**69. The Spell**

"I've talked to them both and --"

"Both? Dean's here? Where is he now?" John interrupted quickly. He stood up from his cot and came to stand unnervingly close to Pastor Jim in the doorway. "Are they alone together?" John's eyes bore into the pastor's.

"No," Jim said smoothly. "I talked to them and they've agreed to end it. They're in favor of the spell." John chewed on his lip for a second before opening his mouth to speak. Jim stopped him before he could. "You have to trust me… even if you can't trust them. Okay?"

John grunted in frustration and turned away from his friend, raking his fingers through his hair. "Fine," he murmured. "Alright. " He leaned himself against the doorframe before speaking again. "Jim, I-I can't just sit here waiting for some witch to come and mess with my head --"

"I was hoping you'd say that. I have a lead on a job nearby." Pastor Jim gestured for John to follow him and they went back to his office. He pushed open the double doors and walked straight to the other end of the room where a heavy curtain hung. He pushed it back to reveal a stone archway where an entire arsenal was laid out.

John smiled in spite of himself. "Let's get to work," he said, stepping forward and brushing his hand over the various weapons.

* * *

There was only one day left before Tina would be arriving to perform the spell. Dean hadn't seen his father at all and Sam had elected not to see him again until he had to. A feeling of gloom had settled over the brothers. They had spent all their time together and both were secretly thinking how that was maybe making it worse.

"Do you think we'll have enough self control?" Sam asked miserably.

"We'll have to," Dean whispered. Sam moved closer to his big brother on the mattress, resting his head against Dean's shoulder.

"I want us to be together one last time but I don't know if we should. It's only gonna make things harder, right?" Sam asked. Dean sighed and lifted Sam's chin.

"Probably. But this is our last chance. Then… never again. So, I don't know," Dean replied softly. Their lips met in a tender kiss.

"Our last chance," Sam whispered.

* * *

John heard a woman speaking to Pastor Jim outside his door, a strong voice with a hint of a Haitian accent. She entered the room a moment later, a regal air about her, standing tall with a large basket held against her hip. She had pure ebony skin and piercing eyes that looked right through him. A shiver ran down his spine as she looked into his face.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her eyes studying him calculatingly. John took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Alright. We will begin." She set the basket down by the table Pastor Jim had put in the room for her. She spread a black cloth across the table and began unloading the basket, arranging items in a precise order. John watched intently before finally turning away nervously.

"So what happens? How does this work?" he asked awkwardly.

"Please do not talk," Tina said. She lit a circle of candles around a small stone bowl and began mixing ingredients in it, stirring slowly until she seemed satisfied. She dipped a long, rough cloth in the bowl, letting the dark liquid soak into it. Carefully, she lifted it out of the bowl and walked toward John. "Lay down," she ordered. John slowly lowered himself onto his cot. "Close your eyes."

John suddenly felt the wet cloth being pressed against his face. It had a pungent odor, too many herbs for him to distinguish. He listened to Tina as she began to chant in what sounded like a melding of many different languages. Finally he heard her speak in English. "You will no longer see what you cannot bear to see," she said as she pressed the cloth hard against his eyes. She wrapped the rest of the cloth around his head, this time pressing on his ears. He heard her muffled voice. "You shall no longer hear of it, nor remember it."

"Sleep now, let it be erased from you mind. Let these false memories take the place of these painful ones," Tina whispered. She began chanting again but the sound became more and more distant as John slowly lost consciousness.

* * *

Sam and Dean sat on opposite sides of the mattress, holding hands but keeping their distance. "What if it doesn't work?" Sam asked, half worried and half hopeful. Dean shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough." There was a knock on the door and their hands sprang apart. "Come in," Dean said. Pastor Jim entered the room.

"The spell's been performed. Now we wait for you father to wake up." Sam and Dean nodded. "Be strong," Jim said kindly. "I'll get you two when he's awake."

"Um, I'm gonna make a call," Dean said after Pastor Jim had left.

"That girl?" Sam asked. Dean nodded. "Who is she?" Dean hesitated for a moment before finally deciding to tell Sam about Tara and Diane's vision.

"Joy," Sam said sarcastically. "Do you think she'll get another vision before it's too late?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. That's part of why I'm gonna call. I haven't talked to them all week. Besides, if I stay in this room one more minute I know I'll end up kissing you and we can't risk it now that the spell's been cast." He stood up without another word and walked out of the room.

* * *

"No, nothing new to report," Tara told Dean. "It's a little unnerving. I wish we could just know when it's gonna happen. But what's going on with you? Is everything okay?"

She heard Dean sigh. "Um, no imminent danger that I can see but there is this thing going on…." Tara's face fell as Dean explained the spell.

"I'm sorry Dean," she said sympathetically. She heard some speaking in the background.

"Tara, I gotta go. My dad just woke up." He hung up. Tara sighed and put the phone down. Tara looked up to see Diane standing in the doorway. She looked weak and pale.

"You okay?" Tara asked, walking over to her girlfriend helping her over to the couch. Diane rubbed her eyes and sighed.

"I got this, this flash. It didn't tell me very much but…"

"What is it?" Tara asked.

"It's something the Winchesters have faced before. It's gained so much power since they last saw it. And it's coming soon. A week or two, maybe less."

* * *

Pastor Jim held open John's door for the boys to enter. They stepped inside surreptitiously, avoiding eye contact with anyone. They finally looked up at their father at the same time.

"How are you feeling sir?" Dean asked softly.

"Fine. Why do you two look so nervous?" John asked.

"They were worried about you. You hit your head pretty hard John," Pastor Jim said quickly. Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look, thankful for Jim swooping in.

"Yeah, I know. That demon was a bitch," John murmured with a shake of his head. The brothers exchanged another quick glance before looking away again, knowing better than to question anything. They knew Jim and their father had hunted a demon over the week but no injuries had been sustained.

The brothers would just have to play along, tread lightly until they knew exactly how the spell had reacted. Pastor Jim had mentioned memories being replaced with false ones but it was impossible to know what they would be.

Jim nodded in agreement. "I wanted to thank you for coming out here and helping me with that. But you guys should probably be heading back to Massachusetts. There's a possible job in the Springfield area that you could look into." John nodded. "I'm just gonna have a word with your boys for a minute before you go," Jim said with a smile. He exited the room followed by Sam and Dean.

"This is beyond weird," Dean murmured. Pastor Jim nodded.

"The groggy state he's in right now is convenient but it's not gonna last very long. The calculating man you're used to will be back soon. For now, just try to feel out the situation, get a handle on the history that's been fabricated for him the past few months. Most things will be the same but you should still be careful with what you say right now."

* * *

_Unfortunately it seems that their father's current state is the least of their worries. Dun Dun Dun. I'm a bad person. lol. Anyway, as always, tell me what you think!_

_Wow, we've reached chapter 69… *immature giggle* Sorry.  
~aep _


	70. Gone

**70. Gone**

"Sam?" A girl's voice broke him from his reverie. He turned in the hall to see Susan walking up to him. "You've been gone for like two weeks!" He nodded absentmindedly and they walked to their first class of the day together.

The two of them took their seats at an empty lunch table in the back of the cafeteria and were soon joined by all the other GSA members and a few more stragglers.

"Hey! Where've you been?" Tony asked, drumming his lavender fingernails upon the table.

"Um, taking care of family stuff. But I'm back, at least for now," Sam said.

"Well, good to have you back," Susan said with a smile.

* * *

John shifted uncomfortably on the new leather couch, trying to ignore the squeaks his movement created and listening to the older woman before him. She was describing all the usual implications of a manifestation in her small home. He found himself losing focus, noticing the lady's flyaway gray hair that seemed to create its own little atmosphere around her head.

"Well ma'am, I think I can handle this," he said. "I actually have an opening this evening. I'd say go out, have a nice dinner and by the time you get back everything will be, uh, will be in working order again." He stumbled over his words slightly. Ever since leaving Pastor Jim's an unsettling feeling had gripped him. It was like someone had shifted all his organs ever so slightly making him feel like a stranger in his own body. He cleared his throat and brought his attention back to Mrs. Woodbury.

She looked at him quizzically, the crow's feet around her eyes gathering closer. "It's just all the rewiring and such, you're electricity and heat is gonna have to go out while I work." She nodded slowly. "Great," John muttered half-heartedly.

* * *

Dean sat on the concrete stoop outside of the motel room. Pinpricks of cold numbness were slowly spreading through his body. In the distance he saw Sam coming toward him. He watched his brother intently, absentmindedly counting the steps it took for him to reach him.

Sam dropped his backpack to the ground and took a seat next to Dean. "Hey," Sam said softly. Dean grunted quietly and stared at the cracks in the concrete. They sat in silence for a moment. They could hardly believe that it had only been two days since returning from Pastor Jim's. The strain the spell put on them had already stretched the hours.

"Wow, it's, it's the twenty-fourth already, huh?" Sam asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Dean simply grunted again. "Well, happy birthd--"

"Don't," Dean finally spoke. He continued to stare down at the dull gray concrete for a moment before looking up. "I don't need to be reminded of my birthday. Trust me," he paused and his eyes were drawn back to the ground. "Especially when I can't have what I want," he murmured. Sam could feel a dull flush rise in his cheeks at his brother's words.

The phone rang from inside the room breaking them from their thoughts. Dean went to answer. Sam walked in after him. "Whoa, Tara slow down," Dean spoke nervously into the receiver. His body grew more and more rigid with each word Tara uttered.

"Lay a line of salt down between you two. She can't cross over it, she can't hurt you. Just sit tight. I'm leaving right now. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"What's going on?" Sam asked as Dean put the phone down.

"Diane's possessed. Tara thinks it's the thing from her visions. Tell Dad --"

"Wait, the seriously dangerous thing from Diane's vision? I'm not staying here to be your message machine. If this is serious you're gonna need backup."

Dean grunted in frustration but knew that there wasn't any time to argue, especially when Sam had that stubbornly determined look on his face. He cast his eyes about the room quickly before scanning the parking lot for a car he could take. "Okay. Dad's, Dad's on a job so he has the journal and we… We have no way to exorcise a demon," he thought aloud to himself.

"I can call Pastor Jim and get a ritual from him," Sam interjected. Dean nodded, grabbing a pen and pad of paper off the bureau and throwing it to his little brother.

"Hurry up!" He ran out of the room to jumpstart the first car he could find in the parking lot.

* * *

She had pretended for as long as she could but she couldn't stand it anymore. "You're not Diane," Tara whispered, watching as Diane's figure slunk toward her like a tiger preparing to pounce.

An uncharacteristically cold smile spread over Diane's lips. "Really?" she asked sarcastically? Even the tone of her voice was different, cold and deep. She glanced down at the line of salt separating the two of them in the hall. "Please? You think this is enough to stop me?" She stepped over it with ease and grabbed Tara's wrist tightly in her hand, dragging her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

Diane's grip was so powerful that Tara's hand had gone numb. She finally released Tara, flinging her onto the bed, pinning her down and lying on top of her.

"Get off of me!" Tara shouted, thrashing and fighting against whatever was making Diane do this to her. Tara never thought she would see cruelty in her partner's face but it was there now. "Get off," she growled, trying to squirm away. Diane's grip held her in place. Tara screwed her eyes shut as Diane's face moved closer to hers. She felt soft lips at her jawline.

"Stop," Tara whimpered.

"Don't you want a kiss from your lover?" Diane's voice whispered in her ear. Tara felt Diane's fingers slip under her shirt and rise slowly, nails lightly scratching her skin.

"You're not her!" Tara screamed, anger bursting through her. She finally managed to throw Diane off of her. She pushed her against the wall, holding her there and staring into her eyes. "Leave her alone. G-Get out!"

Diane sighed and rolled her eyes, laying a quick kiss on Tara's lips. Tara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Diane swept her aside like a low-hanging branch in her path and walked out of the room without a word. Tara followed her into the kitchen, freezing as she saw Diane pull a knife from a drawer.

"You know, you're right. I should leave your girlfriend alone. I'm getting a little sick of her. She's in here with me, whining and begging to be free. Begging me not to hurt you. It's a little pathetic," she said as she inspected the knife carefully. She waved it slowly through the air, eyes sparkling as she admired the shine it had. Tara watched it glint as it hit the light.

"Please, just put the knife down," she choked out, barely able to speak from fear. Their eyes connected. She couldn't read Diane's expression. "Please?" Diane whispered. There was a flicker in Diane's face, an unintelligible expression that shot across her face and disappeared in an instant.

For a split second Tara thought Diane was actually going to drop the knife but she just clenched the handle tighter in her fist and swung it down. It landed deep in her own gut and stuck there.

"NO!" Tara screamed, rushing forward and catching Diane as she fell to the floor. Tara could feel warmth between them and it took her a moment to realize it was the blood pouring from Diane's wound. "No, baby, no," she whispered, burying her head in Diane's neck and shaking her. "Please, please, no. Please, no," the tears were falling hard and fast and she could hardly breathe from the shock of it. "No."

Tara's shaky fingers traced Diane's face, closing her blank eyes and softly kissing her lips. Her hand traveled slowly down to the knife. Diane's hand was still wrapped around it. Tara pulled Di's hand away from it and clasped her own fingers around it. A heaving sob escaped her lips as she tightened her grip on it and yanked the blade out of Diane's stomach with a sickening squelching sound. Tara threw it aside and pulled Diane closer to her. The blood began to flow more freely for a few moments before trickling to a stop.

"No, no, no," she kept moaning out, as if that simple word could bring Diane back. It wouldn't.

She was gone.

* * *

Dean burst through the door followed by Sam. "Wait here," Dean muttered to his little brother before following the sound of heaving breathing into the kitchen. He stared at Tara cradling Diane's body in her arms, dried blood covering them and caking the linoleum floor.

Tara continued to cry softly. Dean knelt beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, her eyes burning red and her cheeks streaked with tears. "Oh God, Tara, I'm so sorry. I-I should've gotten here sooner. I --" He couldn't continue, the painful tightening in his throat constricted his words.

He heard a soft gasp from behind him and he turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. "I told you to wait out there!" Dean shouted, sounding far too much like his father. Sam nodded mutely and backed away. "I'm sorry," Dean whispered to Tara. She shook her head and leaned against him, still clinging to Diane.

"Dean, she's, she's g-gone and the thing that did this to her isn't."

* * *

_I'm so fucking frustrated! I lost ten pages of really important material to the story. *sigh* So yeah, this chapter and the next two had to be totally rewritten. Man, I was really happy with them and then…_

_Well, that's what happens when you're a broke-ass writer who has to rely on floppy disks. *sniffle* Anyway, hopefully I managed to recapture some of what I had written._

_Well, happy Martin Luther King Day._

_And as always – tell me what you think!  
~aep _


	71. Reunion

**71. Reunion**

"Sh-Should we call the police or --?" Tara asked softly, staring into Dean's face with a slightly dazed expression.

"No, not right now. Let's just get you cleaned off," Dean murmured. He tried to lift her but she wouldn't release Diane. "You, you have to let her go now," he whispered.

"I don't think I c-can," Tara muttered as she stared down at the lifeless form in her lap. Dean stood up without a word and walked into the bedroom. He stripped the bed of its sheet and went back to the kitchen with it bundled under his arm.

"Tara," he began as he knelt down in front of her, "Can you let me have Diane? I'm gonna lay her down and cover her up, okay?" he said as though he were explaining all this to a small child. Tara made no response. He moved a little closer, putting the sheet aside as he slid his arms underneath Diane. "Let go Tara," he whispered. They were frozen like that for a minute until Tara's hands finally unclenched and Dean gently pulled Diane out of her arms.

Dean unfurled the sheet and laid it on top of Diane. It felt so unreal to look down at the cloth covering the woman whom he had been hugging a week ago. But as his gaze shifted back over to Tara's distraught face he was struck by just how horribly true and real it was.

He watched as she leaned forward and pulled back the sheet a bit to lay a kiss on Diane's forehead before covering her again. He wrapped his arm gently around Tara's waist and hoisted her up to her feet. She leaned heavily against him, unable to support her own weight. He could feel her struggling to gain control over herself but she couldn't.

"It's okay," he whispered, holding tighter to her and practically carrying her into the bathroom. He set her down by the edge of the tub before kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket. He knew when the rest of his clothes were sopping wet he would regret not taking them off but he couldn't stand making the situation more uncomfortable than it already was. He stepped into the shower and adjusted the water temperature then got back out and lifted Tara to her feet again.

"Try to raise your arms for me, 'kay?" he asked. She nodded slowly and lifted them a little. Still supporting her with one arm, he began to peel the blood-soaked shirt from her body. He managed to lift it over head and throw it into the bottom of the bath. Dean started undoing her jeans, gingerly sliding them down and off and discarding them as well. His hands rose over Tara's back, hesitantly holding his fingers an inch away from the clasp of her bra. He looked into her face for permission and she nodded. He unhooked it and slid the straps down her shoulders, averting his eyes and moving slowly to avoid exposing her for as long as he could.

Dean helped her step into the tub and under the stream of water, still not looking at her as he grabbed a wash cloth off the nearby rack and wet it. He ran it across her shoulders and neck before moving it lower and carefully running it across her chest. The blood had soaked through her clothes and into her skin. He rubbed gently at her breast, beginning to wipe the blood away.

"I'm sorry," Dean murmured softly, feeling awkward. Tara shrugged her shoulders and looped an arm around him for more support.

Sam followed the sound of running water and glanced into the bathroom. He took in the image of his brother holding Tara up in the shower, his hands on her naked body. Sam walked away silently and moved back into the living room. A stab of jealousy hit him as the picture of what he had just seen came into his head. He knew Dean was only helping his friend, that it was platonic, but he couldn't help feeling that slow boil in his stomach.

_God, you have no right to feel this way. It's not like you can be in a relationship with him anyway. It's over._ Sam sighed and took a seat on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. _You're such a selfish bastard. Tara's girlfriend was just killed and all you can think about is how you're pining away after Dean,_ he thought miserably to himself. He heard the shower turn off and squared his jaw, head still in his hands.

Dean had washed away all visible traces of blood. "Th-Thank you," Tara whispered as he helped her out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. He walked her into her room, setting her down on the bed and moving over to her dresser in search of a fresh set of clothes.

"I can't believe she's gone," Tara muttered, standing up from the bed slowly and coming over to stand by Dean, one hand against the dresser for support.

"I know," Dean replied softly, looking at her for a moment before opening the first drawer and pulling out a shirt for her. He heard something soft drop to the ground, looking down he saw it was Tara's towel. "Um, here," he muttered, handing her the shirt and looking away. She took it, looking at it for a second before putting it down on the bureau. She sniffled and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Tara," he whispered, pulling out of the hug slowly and grabbing up the shirt. Tara laid a hand on his and stared into his face.

"I know how much you miss Sam, miss touching him," she murmured, looking into his eyes earnestly.

"Tara, that's not important right now," Dean said with a slow shake of his head, an uneasy tightening in his chest.

"Yes, it is. I know I'm not Sammy, but I can still make you feel… just make you feel," she whispered. Her hands moved up to his chest, resting there for a moment before sliding down.

"Whoa," he said, grabbing her hands and stopping her. "Tara, no," he said in alarm. There was a glint in her eye, something other than grief. A small smile spread on her face, not quite reaching her eyes. "Tara?" he whispered nervously.

"No. Not really," she said, her smile growing.

"You're the thing that killed Diane," Dean whispered. Tara nodded slowly, that little grin still firmly in place.

"Come on, Dean. You don't recognize me? Granted, I look a little different at the moment but still..." she said, resting a hand on his face and staring at him expectantly. He pulled away, an insane thought entering his mind. "Ooh, the wheels are turning ladies and gentlemen!" she said to the room at large.

"Kelly."

* * *

_A rather short chapter but I thought that was a good note to end it on. Bad Adriana! Why must you cliff-ify your readers?!  
More soon. Almost done rewriting the last of the chapters that were lost.  
Reviews if you please!  
~aep _


	72. Fortune Teller

**72. Fortune Teller**

"But how? I burned your remains. You should be --"

"Looks like you screwed up the job, kiddo. Oh, but you did manage to do my brother in. So, um, thanks for that," she said scathingly.

"So wait," Dean said, ignoring her comment, "Was this all just some sick joke? Was it you this entire time pretending to mourn Diane?"

Her eyes widened, mock surprise shining in them. "Oh please, that would be cruel! No, Tara was driving the car, I was just in the back seat. But, well, I got sick of the moping so I took over."

"Fuck you," Dean hissed. Kelly's patented smirk flitted across Tara's face. She sauntered away from him, opening the closet door and searching for something. She turned to face Dean, displaying a small, dark blue dress on a hanger.

"What do you think?" she asked. Dean took a deep breath but refused to speak. "I'll take that as a yes," Kelly murmured to herself, pulling the dress off the hanger and slithering into it. She surveyed the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door. "Not bad. I like this outfit, and not just the dress," she muttered the last part as she studied Tara's body reflected in the mirror. She smoothed a few wrinkles out of the form-fitting dress and turned to face Dean again.

"Alright, I'm ready," Kelly said.

"For what?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.

"To be formally introduced to Sammy. He and Tara didn't really get a chance to chat before." Dean stepped in front of the door, blocking her way. "Oh, come on Dean! I got dressed and everything. Figured you wouldn't want your baby brother to see sweet little Tara all naked."

"You know what I didn't want him to see?" Dean asked, the fury in him making his voice shake slightly. "Tara holding her dead girlfriend in a pool of blood. Yeah, that would've been a good thing for Sam not to have to witness."

Kelly sighed and rolled her eyes, swiftly pushing Dean aside with more strength than Tara would normally have. He followed after her, calling a warning to Sam just as he made it into the living room.

"Sam, it's not Tara --"

Sam looked into Tara's face, recognizing something there. "Kelly?" he asked softly.

"Cute and smart. I get what you see in him," Kelly told Dean as she smiled intently at Sam. Dean stepped forward, standing in front of Sam like a shield. Once again, Kelly rolled her eyes. With a flick of her hand she sent Dean flying across the small room. He scrambled to stand up but not in time to stop Kelly from throwing his little brother into the opposite wall, just inches away from a window. Sam fell to the floor, completely limp. Dean ran over to him.

"Calm down. If I really wanted to hurt him I'd have thrown him through the window. I just knocked him out. He'll be fine. I wanted to have some private grown-up time with you," she said smugly, stepping back and flopping down into the armchair behind her. "Sit down. Get comfortable," she said, waving her arm lazily at the couch.

"Not likely," Dean murmured as he picked Sam up off the floor and laid him out on the sofa. He came to stand in front of Kelly, a voice inside of him screaming as he looked into Tara's eyes only to see a monster staring back.

"So, what's new? Wait, don't bother. I know -- I've been watching you," Kelly said, her smirk turning up the corners of Tara's mouth.

"Good to know," Dean muttered, hands clenched into tight fists at his side.

"My God, all the angst! You two deserve your own series," she said with a solemn nod of her head. "Oh, and not to brag or anything," she started, "But that whole werewolf infestation thing -- that was me. When they're in their wolf state they don't exactly have the capability to access the organizational part of their brains so I... I helped them out. I knew you'd come." She crossed one leg over the other, that smirk still in place.

"So if you've been having so much fun playing the invisible puppet master why are you showing yourself now?" Dean spat out.

"I've been busy. The werewolf thing was really a test run. I've been flitting between different planes of existence -- learning things, gaining power," she paused for a moment, seemingly caught up with twirling fingers through Tara's hair. "I think I feel satisfied with what I've learned and seen. Plus, I was getting tired of waiting in the shadows."

"So what's the plan?" Dean asked impatiently.

"I'm getting to that!" Kelly said indignantly, rolling her eyes and sitting straighter in her chair. "Dean, you don't get it do you?" she whispered softly, eyes burning into his. "You murdered my brother and then you utterly… annihilated him. I held him as he fizzled out of existence."

"Okay, you have to admit, it was a little more impressive than that. There were flames and --"

"I want to pay back every ounce of pain you've given me and then some," she continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. She put her hand to her lips for a moment, looking lost in thought.

"But I won't. Because I've seen the light."

Dean scoffed at her skeptically. "You won't hurt me? So setting my family onto an insanely dangerous hunt wasn't intended to hurt me or people I cared about? Murdering Diane and wearing Tara like a meat suit? Yeah, right, of course. How could that possibly be construed as hurtful?"

"Dean, I know how it sounds but I also know now that nothing I can do to you will hurt as much as what's already coming to you and yours."

Dean stood absolutely still, trying to look unfazed by what she had said but he felt like bugs were crawling under his skin with each word she uttered.

"You Winchesters, you're cursed. Your family… the pain and death, the guilt and burdens that are coming for you…. You can't escape it." Her smile widened with each passing moment, relishing everything she said.

"I've traveled to different dimensions and seen a thousand different ways this can be played out and every single time… The hurt that you're going to feel..." She studied him for a moment, eyes drinking him in. "I thought you were a tortured soul _now_. But you have a long way to go, my friend."

"This is complete bullshit," Dean muttered, trying to convince himself more than simply defying her.

"Heaven and hell and everything in between… it's coming for you soon enough," she slowly rose from the chair, stepping forward until she was just a few inches away from him. She pressed a hand to his chest and stared into his eyes. Dean's fists tightened and he had to muster all the self control he had not to slap Kelly. He couldn't hurt Tara.

"And you know what, I never thought I'd say this, but I pity you. I honestly feel that no one, _no one_ deserves what's coming for you. Still, I'm not gonna lie, I'm looking forward to watching the big beautiful show. Chaos and betrayal and torture coming at you from all sides…. It's gonna be epic."

"You're not scaring me," Dean whispered defiantly, though the glint in Kelly's eyes as she spoke really did terrify him.

"Come on, Dean. You're not stupid. You're scared. And you should be. I've seen it all. And I'm honestly trying to pick my favorite moment but I can't. Every time you find an ounce of happiness it gets ripped away. And the pain that follows it is something beyond what even the most tortured poets could dream up."

"Why are you telling me all this? I've got enough to deal with right now, I'm not really worried about the future," Dean said with an awkward shrug. He missed the cocky swagger that seemed to have drained out of him. Kelly's calculating eyes were sparkling with silent laughter.

"You know, in life I doubted the existence of God. But now, I know he has to be real because what he sets in motion is nothing short of beautiful. I know how strange that must sound coming from someone like me but… God is great."

* * *

Tara wanted to scream. She wished desperately that she could stifle the words flowing from her mouth. She felt unclean, the presence of the ghost in her weighing dark and heavy inside. She was being used as a pawn to damage Dean. Tara thought of Diane and the way the thing inside of her right now had slaughtered her girlfriend. The grief in her was as palpable as Kelly's power.

Fear was surging through her as well -- would she be killed next? What about Dean and Sam? A feeling of dread; she somehow knew that every word Kelly was speaking through her was true. The Winchesters were going to lead an existence like the one she was describing.

"God is cruel and savage and he must really hate you and yours. There's no other possible explanation. Why else would he put you through such hell? Or maybe he just doesn't care. Yes, an apathetic God." Tara felt her shoulders shrug nonchalantly.

_Shut up! Just shut up! Stop torturing him._ she thought furiously. She stared at Dean from the prison of her own body. The disbelieving sneer on his face didn't convince her. And she knew it wasn't convincing Kelly either. There was a glint of fear in his eyes, a small spark.

"Do you ever shut up? Ever?" Dean finally said. "All this bullshit talk of God. Do you really think I care about your religious views? This isn't Sunday school, lady." He seemed to gain some small measure of confidence from his defiance.

A smirk started on Tara's lips and Kelly spoke, "I'm not telling you make-believe stories scribbled in the bible. I'm giving you a small glimpse into your future. Aren't you curious?"

* * *

_My computer has this virus so it's taken me a while to get this posted. Special thanks to my friend Abbey who mentioned in writing workshop that she had a curiosity for Tara's point of view while being possessed. Love you, hun.  
Anyway, tell me what y'all think.  
~aep _


	73. Voyeur

**73. Voyeur**

"No, not that curious about the future actually. Like I said, I've got enough to deal with right now," Dean said in a monotone.

"Oh come on, just a taste," Kelly whispered, her hand lifting from Dean's chest and moving up to hover in front of his face. As he watched black tendrils made of smoke crept out of the tips of Tara's fingers and drifted toward his head. He wanted to jerk away but a sudden curiosity held him in place. He felt the smoke caress his forehead and then enter his skull like a shard of lightning slicing through a black sky. A jumble of sounds and images clashed in his mind.

He choked on the sensation of the tube down his throat, looking around to see himself lying in a hospital bed, feeling so weak that he was sure he was dying. He looked down at the IV in his hand, an older hand, rougher and more worn. The feeling of a cold hospital and his own mortality faded and he saw Sam. He was older -- early twenties -- and kneeling before Dean in a dark room that glimmered as moonlight hit the dozens mirrors surrounding them. Tracks of blood ran down Sam's cheeks as Dean felt his hands hold up his little brother's face. The scene dissolved and a flash of yellow eyes bore into his, then the sound of a gunshot. It changed again; a serrated knife with carvings in the handle that he swiped across a man's throat. A flash of light and then the scene changed again; he was gripping his brother's shoulders while Sam clutched his forehead in pain and while the Sam before him silently clenched his jaw in pain, Dean heard his little brother's voice speak as though from far away, deeper and angrier than he had ever heard it: "I'm a whole new level of freak!" Dean heard his own voice; "Well if you're a freak then I'm one too…." Then suddenly he was watching as a little blond girl with an evil spark in her eye smiled at him. The scene changed again and a dark-haired man with stern blue eyes gazed meaningfully into his in the darkness outside of a motel. All of a sudden Dean was in a dark room with Sam who had tears in his eyes. Sam grabbed at his face as Dean tried to pull away. Dean helped his brother onto a bed, watching as Sam writhed drunkenly on it. And then Dean was standing outside in the sunlight and a smirking man spoke, his eyes darting from Sam to Dean, "Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it too."

Dean finally pulled away, mind overloaded by all he had seen and heard. He blinked and watched as the smoky tendrils drifted back through Tara's fingers and disappeared. "Just a little sneak peek at the coming attractions," Kelly said, upturning the corners of Tara's mouth in a sadistic smile.

The sound of speaking began to pull Sam from unconsciousness; Tara's soft voice, infused with poison as Kelly spoke through her. "So what do you think?" he heard her ask.

Sam tried to move as little as possible, slowly reaching into his pocket and pulling from it the paper on which he had written down the exorcism ritual. Holding his breath, he silently prayed that Kelly wouldn't realize what he was trying to do until it was too late for her.

Sam surreptitiously moved the paper as close to his face as possible without drawing Kelly's attention. He studied the Latin for a moment before opening his mouth slightly and beginning to whisper as quietly as he could.

Dean felt Tara's hand on his chest twitch slightly, looking into her face he realized Kelly's focus was no longer on him. Her eyes had suddenly been drawn to Sam. Dean stepped to the left, blocking her view of him lying on the couch.

"Leave him alone," Dean whispered venomously.

"He's not leaving me alone," Kelly said earnestly. She sidestepped Dean so quickly he barely had time to react. He grabbed hold of her shoulder but she threw him back against the wall with ease.

She pulled Sam up from the couch and ripped the paper from his hand. "Nice try, hun," she told him, giving him a pat on the head. Her eyes scanned the page. She nodded as if confirming something to herself. "But this is a demon exorcism. It wasn't gonna work on me." She pushed him back down on the couch with such force that it left him dazed.

Dean pulled himself to his feet while Sam watched helplessly as she crumpled the paper in her fist and gazed at it for a moment. A thin plum of smoke began to rise and twist in the air and suddenly the paper was on fire, flames licking the palm of Tara's hand. Dean lunged forward and ripped the burning page away from her and threw it to the ground, stamping it out and grabbing Tara's hand to survey the damage. Her skin had already begun to blister but it wasn't too serious.

"Enough! Stop this!" Dean shouted, grabbing Tara's shoulders and shaking her. Kelly stared back at him, laughing wildly.

"Are you gonna hurt me, Dean? 'Cause that would involve hurting Tara and I know you don't wanna do that," Kelly said with her patented smirk. Dean took a deep breath and released her. She raised her hand and made to caress his face but he slapped it away furiously. "Careful Dean. Tara's in here and she can feel everything."

"You bitch. You have to hide behind my friend to face me?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing in disgust.

"I'm not hiding. I'm just having a little fun," Kelly said blankly.

"Grow up," Sam whispered softly.

Kelly turned to him, eyes flashing. "Says the fourteen-year-old."

He got to his feet and thanks to his growth spurt he could look down at her by a few inches. Dean could see a cold, strong rebelliousness shining in his little brother's eyes as he spoke. "That doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Yeah, you're right, kiddo," Kelly said mockingly, clapping him on the shoulder and nodding.

"Don't touch him," Dean said, squeezing himself between her and Sam.

"Right, I'll leave that to you. Oh wait, you can't either, can you?" Kelly asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I can't. Your point being?" Dean asked, his jaw set.

"Oh come on, that's too easy. I'm not even gonna answer that," Kelly said with a shake of her head. Dean rolled his eyes but knew exactly what she meant and hated it. She stared into his face with a smile, her eyes studying every inch of it before she turned to look at Sam. She glanced back at Dean once more and spoke.

"Alright, you know what? Little Sammy's right. I've had enough fun. I waited a long time to talk to you again and now I have. So I'm gonna leave. And don't worry, I'll leave your precious Tara alive." The smallest flicker of hope sparked in Dean's chest but he knew he not to trust it.

"But I won't really be gone," Kelly continued, "I'll be watching you. I know, that sounds so lame and clichéd. All I need is a moustache to twirl and a good villainous laugh but seriously, I will be watching your every move. I'll be watching you suffer."

"Wow, thanks. I feel honored that you view my life as your own little soap opera. So, go ahead, stay tuned for as long as you can because I [i]will[/i] end you. You'll be gone, gone to a place where you can't spy or mock or hurt anyone." Dean growled out.

Kelly smiled and blinked, completely unfazed. "Okay, you work on that sweetie." She grabbed him and slammed her lips against his. "Parting gift, especially since it seems like you won't be getting any for a while," she said with a malicious glint at Sam.

Suddenly, a black, smoky form shot out of Tara's chest and disappeared through the wall. Tara fell back onto the coffee table and gasped. Sam and Dean hurriedly helped her up.

"Tara?" Dean asked. She shut her eyes and nodded. He grabbed her in a tight hug and sighed.

"I'm so sorry. So, so sorry this happened to you," he whispered. Tara nodded into his shoulder before carefully extracting herself from his arms.

"You should go," she whispered softly, sad eyes looking into his.

"What if she comes back for you?" Sam asked Tara hesitantly.

"I don't think she will," Tara said.

"Sam's right, we should --" Dean started.

"No!" She took a deep breath before speaking again. "Dean, you need to know I'm not mad at you. I don't blame you for what happened." Dean opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand to silence him. "I don't. But you need to leave because I have to call the police for Diane. I don't want you here. I don't want you to be a suspect. There's already evidence that you two have been here and you have work to do, you can't be held up by this."

A tear slid down her cheek. "Tara --" Dean whispered.

"Don't." She glance down at the floor and noticed Dean's bare feet. "Just go get your stuff from the bathroom and go. I'll call you when, when it's done. Alright?"

Dean's instinct to protect his friend was strong but he had to respect her wishes, especially when he knew she was being reasonable.

"Alright?" Tara asked again. He nodded slowly.

"I'll get your stuff for you," Sam muttered, stepping from the room.

"Call me the second you can. Write the motel number on your hand in case you get called in for questioning," Dean told her.

Tara nodded. Sam reentered the room and she took him into a quick hug, then Dean. She held onto him for a little longer before releasing him resolutely; she knew that if she didn't let go now she never would. She watched, eyes out of focus as Dean slipped his shoes and jacket back on.

She walked them to the door and closed it softly behind them. Tears began to stream down her face as she walked slowly back into the kitchen and saw Diane's body on the floor under that sheet.

She grabbed the phone off the counter and dialed 9-1-1. "Yes, I-I'd like to report a murder."

* * *

_Sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out. I've actually had the bulk of it done for a while but my computer is seriously viral so everything's taking a lot longer to get done. Please, please, please tell me what you think. I'll try to post more quickly. Wish me a healthy computer! *grumble grumble*  
~aep _


	74. Alone

**74. Alone**

The long car ride back to their motel was virtually silent. "What did Kelly say to you?" Sam finally asked as they entered Connecticut.

"Nothing important. She was just trying to mess with my head," Dean murmured after a moment, eyes set firmly on the road. The silence pressed in on them again and neither said another word the rest of the way.

Dean parked the car where he had found it, scanning the lot for the Impala. He gave a small sigh of relief when he didn't see it anywhere. He couldn't handle confronting his father right now.

"C'mon," Sam muttered and the two of them made their way back to their room. Dean took a seat on one of the beds, his eyes focusing in on the phone that was only a few feet away on the nightstand.

"She probably won't be able to call for a while," Sam said as he studied his brother's intense stare. Dean nodded in agreement but kept his eyes fixed on the phone anyway.

"I got her into this mess. Her girlfriend's dead because of me," Dean muttered under his breath. Sam opened his mouth to disagree but closed it, knowing anything he said would be ignored. He sat himself down on the other bed and sighed.

Even though Sam barely knew Tara, he felt so deeply for her that he found himself staring anxiously at the phone as well. "She's been a really good friend to you. I'm glad she could be there for you," Sam whispered.

"Yeah." There was a pause. "But I couldn't be there for her. Or Diane. I didn't know her that well but she was my friend too. She's -- she _was_ Bobby's niece. She saved our life and now she's dead because of it."

Once again, Sam knew to stay silent, knew there was nothing he could say. He studied his older brother in the weak glow of the lamp on the nightstand. It cast shadows on his face, exaggerating his expression; deepened frown lines and a more furrowed brow.

Dean rubbed at his eyes with his palms, pressing them into his skull. The pressure made bursts of orange fire under his lids. He lowered his hands and rested them on his jeans, for the first time noticing that his clothes were still wet. He shed his shirt, absentmindedly reaching into his bag for a new one while Sam watched awkwardly.

_Stop staring. What happened tonight was completely tragic and you're sitting here watching your brother undress like a pervert!_ Sam almost groaned out loud with frustration at himself. He tore his eyes away from Dean and turned around. He waited for the sound of clothes to stop rustling before turning to face his brother again.

"I know I could say this a thousand times and it still wouldn't matter but… it's not your fault," Sam muttered, staring at the floor.

Dean shook his head and sighed. "Dad was right. He always is. I don't know why I thought for once I didn't have to listen to the rules he set up. They're there for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, shifting on his bed and looking up.

"Never get close to anyone. Never. People die. You put them in danger, you get attached -- cl-close. And they die. There's only you and your family if you're lucky. That's it. That's everything. You do your job and you move on -- alone. There's no time for friends or any of that bullshit," Dean said. His voice was even and matter-of-fact but Sam could see the tears that were on the verge of falling.

"That's not fair," Sam said. Dean shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "You needed someone. That's not a crime. You were lucky enough to find Tara. She's someone you can talk to. She's your friend and that's not bullshit." Dean scoffed at his brother's words, shaking his head in reply.

"I put her in danger. Hell, she could still be. It's not like I can trust Kelly saying that she'll stay out of the way -- that she'll stick to the whole spectator sport thing." He paused for a minute. "Diane's blood is on my hands," he whispered.

"Diane was a psychic. She had a vision about us and the Wrights and got Bobby to help. Kelly would have come after her for that whether or not you'd ever get to know Diane personally," Sam said, trying to reason with his brother.

"Yeah, but maybe -- Sam, just…" he groaned in frustration, standing and walking to the other side of the room. "Stop trying to kiss it and make it better."

"I'm not--"

"Just shut up!" Dean finally shouted, throat squeezing closed as he said it. Grunting furiously, he kicked at the wall as hard as he could before sliding down it and cradling his head in his hands.

* * *

Kelly had shown Dean so much within mere seconds and he didn't know whether or not to believe any of it. Even if it was all true, he hadn't seen enough to make any sense of it. The flashes of images and voices that had crashed through his mind were taking over, roaring in his head, begging to be understood.

There was the click of a key turning in a lock and the door opened. John walked through it, throwing his coat aside and taking in the scene. Dean was still on the floor, backed against the wall with his head in his hands while Sam stood stiffly on one of the beds.

"What's going on?" John asked. Silence was the brothers' response. "What happened?" he pressed. Sam didn't know what to say. He was afraid to speak, not knowing how Dean wanted to handle the situation.

Dean sighed and stood up. "Kelly Wright didn't get ganked when her brother did and so, well, she's back. She killed the psychic that got Bobby to help us," Dean said in a cold, distanced tone. He paused for a moment, "It's weird. She's not the average ghost. She rambled on about gaining power from different dimensions and it, it wasn't all talk."

John nodded slowly, sighing as he lowered himself onto one of the beds. "What kind of power?" he asked softly.

"I don't know the full extent of it," Dean said, gazing down at his feet and running a hand over his face. "And she left this threat looming of… I don't know, things to come."

"So she killed a woman and started spouting off prophecies about your future… What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John asked.

Dean glanced first at his father and then at Sam. He couldn't tell them about the vision she had given him, especially if it was real. He didn't want to burden them with the sense of dizzying dread that was pounding in him.

"I really don't know," he muttered. He could feel the heat of his father's scrutinizing eyes studying him. Once again Dean glanced around to Sam before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "She was just talking about how there's going to be death and epic battles and I don't know. I guess it's all kind of a generic look at things, being hunters and all," he said, trying to cast it off and not worry Sam anymore than he had to. And while he knew that he had to fill his father in on the situation he couldn't stand the idea of John being too involved in the solution. He still felt like he was walking on pins and needles around him. The familiar sense of guilt and shame flaring inside of him at the thought that his father once knew about his feelings towards Sam; knowing that if he wasn't careful John could find out all over again.

"Sir, if you don't mind, I can't think of any kind of research that we could get a start on. So can I, can I just go to bed?" Dean asked quietly, eyes studying the dusty carpet.

John was ready to shoot down his son's request immediately but something made him pause. He was filled with a sort of muffled feeling of panic. He had seen Kelly Wright dissolve in flames in her brother's arms so how was she back? What kind of power had she amassed? Both of his sons looked so shaken by all this but there was something more to it. He rubbed a hand across his face and sighed, slowly tapping his heels against the floor. His eyes passed over from Sam to Dean. He could see the exhaustion etched on his face, a handsome young face that looked suddenly gaunt. A smear of dark red across Dean's neck made John speak.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to Dean's neck. Dean lifted his hand to feel the dried blood as it crumbled against his fingertips.

"I didn't get there in time to save her."

* * *

_Computer's fixed! And besides losing some pictures and having to reinstall stuff it's better than ever. I'm happy. Well, finally got to post this! Sorry that it's kind of short. Anyway, expect more soon and in the meantime, I think you know what to do. *wink*  
But just in case... I'll refresh your memories: Review my little lovelies.  
~aep _


	75. Locked In

**75. Locked In**

Dean's dreams were lost in the whirlwind of reliving the visions Kelly had shown him; The mischievous smirk Dean studied on the man's face as he spoke those ominous words to Sam: "Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it too." And that visceral feel of tubes and wires connected to his body as machines beeped weakly around him; Sam's blood drying against his fingers as he held his little brother's face close in the room of mirrors; the self-loathing in Sam's voice as he called himself a freak; the yellow eyes that bore into Dean's; the power he could feel in the old revolver and that knife; the mysterious blue-eyed man and his penetrating stare, his body rigid under a tan trench coat as he studied Dean. It was too much to take in, even as his subconscious tried to deconstruct it all.

He forced himself to come out of the fog of sleep, eyes peering at the dark room around him. He half-expected to see Kelly standing before him, her hand poised to show him more flashes of the future. But she wasn't. He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand: 3:47. He sighed and glanced over to his father, his chest rose and fell slowly as he slept. Dean looked down at Sam who was huddled in his sleeping bag on the carpet between the beds. He shifted jerkily towards Dean and their eyes connected.

"How long have you been awake?" Dean mouthed.

"Never fell asleep," Sam whispered back, studying his brother's face. Dean looked so haunted, eyes wide even though moments ago he had been asleep. Sam didn't know what to say but the overwhelming need to somehow make it better was weighing on him. He hated that Dean always had to wear the mantle of big brother and now this added pressure and grief for all that had happened.

Diane was dead and Tara had been violated and then left to mourn. Sam could feel a stifling weight crushing down on his chest and knew exactly what his big brother was feeling: that guilt-ridden sense of responsibility for all that had happened. "Dean," he murmured softly.

"I don't wanna talk right now Sam. Go to sleep," Dean whispered back, turning onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. He could hear his little brother sigh quietly.

"Fine. But…" Dean rubbed a hand over his face and waited for his brother to continue. "Aren't, aren't you worried that Tara hasn't called yet?" Sam's voice was soft but insistent, trying to press this one small bit of information out of Dean.

Dean's breath caught in his chest for a moment before he was able to speak. "Yeah. I am," he admitted in a whisper. He had barely finished speaking when the phone suddenly rang shrilly, startling both brothers and waking John in an instant. Dean grabbed at the phone, quickly answering it to hear Tara's meek voice on the other end.

"I-I really didn't want to involve you in this but I don't really have anyone else to call," Tara muttered.

"Are you at the police station?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. And I'm a suspect. Which isn't exactly a surprise but, but I still don't know what to do or… I, I just don't know."

"Okay, don't worry. I'm coming right now. I'll get a motel nearby so you don't have to keep waiting on me to drive back and forth. Can you tell me where the station is?"

"I pass it every day on my way to work but I can't think straight right now," Tara whispered, voice breaking.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get there," he assured her. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up the phone and turned to his father. "I need to go down to Virginia to help my friend. She's getting blamed for Diane's death. The psychic," Dean added at his father's uncomprehending look.

"How do you know this person and why does the police have her as a suspect?" John asked.

"Um, it's a long story and I really gotta go so --" John held up a hand to cut Dean off.

"Then explain it in the car. Sam, get packed. We're going to Virginia."

* * *

John drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and nodded slowly once Dean had finished filling him in on the situation (in a somewhat abridged form). Sam sat in the back seat, chewing on his lip with his rolled up sleeping bag to lean on. The silence bothered him. He was wearily anticipating his father's criticism of Dean to begin.

John gave a slightly exasperated sigh. "Dean, this is why you don't form attachments. It just makes a mess. Case in point," he added coldly.

"Yes sir," Dean murmured. Sam let his bangs fall in front of his face to hide the fact that he was rolling his eyes.

"How much longer?" he cut in.

"Another two hours at least," Dean said, staring straight ahead at the road. A few snowflakes flew into the windshield.

* * *

They arrived at the police station, the three of them walking through the inch or so of fresh snow that coated the ground. They walked through the glass doors and as Dean strode up to the front desk he realized he couldn't remember Tara's last name. He knew he had seen it on the intercom to her apartment. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall it.

"Um, hi," he gave a small, awkward wave to the gray-haired policeman behind the desk. "I'm here for Tara, uh, Berthman."

"One minute," the man said with a huff, turning in his chair and calling over to another  
officer. He nodded at the policewoman's reply and turned back to Dean. "She's still in questioning. Take a seat," he gestured to the plastic chairs that lined the lobby wall.

"When will I be able to see her?" Dean asked.

"Just take a seat. I'll let you know," the man said dismissively.

* * *

"You can see her now," the man called over from his seat behind the desk. Dean jumped up but his father grabbed a hold of his wrist.

"I'm coming with you," he grunted into Dean's ear. John turned back to Sam who had just stood. "Neither of you are gonna say a word until I've assessed the situation, alright?" he said, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"Yes sir," they mumbled in unison. The three of them followed a policewoman through the department and past a door. They walked down an empty corridor with stark walls, brick painted white. They followed the hall until they reached a row of cells. The policewoman brought them to the last one where Tara was sitting on a cot, her head in her hands.

"How long will she be held here for?" John asked the policewoman.

She shrugged and pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes. "Right now she's our prime suspect," she said simply. She stepped back. "Alright, I'll be back in ten minutes," she threw over her shoulder as she headed back down the hall.

Tara looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and teary. "Oh God, Dean. I'm so sorry to drag you into this, but, but, thanks for coming," she said with a sniffle.

"Don't thank me. We're gonna get you outta here," Dean promised. Tara smiled weakly and turned to John.

"So you're John. Good to meet you. Well, not so good under these circumstances but still," Tara muttered the last bit.

John nodded curtly at her before glancing at his watch. "What did you tell them?" he asked quietly, glancing at the other cells as he spoke.

"Don't worry, I didn't mention your sons. Summary: my neighbor saw me come home hours before the coroner's estimated time of d-death so I told the cops that I'd taken something to try and get some sleep and when I woke up I found her like, like… that."

"Are they treating you well?" Sam asked quietly, running his hand down one of the cell bars absentmindedly as he looked at Tara.

"Yeah. Though I'm pretty sure they all think I'm the one who did it. I probably would too, given the evidence," she said with a sigh, shrugging and leaning her back against the wall.

"Look," Dean said after a minute, "Don't give up, okay? They'll figure out that you're innocent and if they don't, I'll get you out of here myself."

* * *

_Of course, two days after my computer is finally fixed, there's a power outage from the snow and my trusty modem up and dies on me. I had to wait for a new one to come in the mail. Once again, sorry for the delay.  
Comments, questions!  
~aep _


	76. The Message

**76. The Message**

John threw his canvas bag to the floor of their new motel room. The walls were a dead gray, as was just about everything else in the room. "Don't make stupid promises, Dean."

"It's real nice that you wanna help your friend but I'm not going to let you get yourself in trouble because of her. She isn't our concern. We need to be looking for Kelly, not trying to figure out a way to break some girl out of jail."

"I know looking for Kelly is a top priority but Dad, so is this. Tara isn't just some girl," Dean replied, trying to sound calm and respectful even though he wanted to shout in his father's face so badly that he could feel his blood pounding through him. He dropped his own bag down to the floor and took a seat on the nearest creaky bed.

"What is she to you? Your girlfriend?" John asked, not bothering to hide the hint of mocking in his voice.

"No!" He stood up and let his hands fall by his sides in exasperation. "It's just… Dad, please. Just help me get her out of there," Dean said. He knew he sounded strong in his convictions but he could see that his father only noticed the pleading undertone in his voice.

"Fine, you're so desperate to free Tara, go ahead. You can waste your own time on this little rescue mission. I'll be working on the damn case. You know, the one that should been taken care of months ago," John said.

Dean was left speechless. What could he say to that? Kelly Wright should have been obliterated months ago and yet she was still out there. If Dean hadn't killed her and her brother in the first place they wouldn't even be in this situation. Kelly wouldn't have gained the strange supernatural powers that she was now looming over them. Diane wouldn't be dead. Tara wouldn't be left heartbroken and locked in a jail cell.

John studied his oldest son for a moment before kneeling down beside his bag and pulling out a few large volumes filled with supernatural lore.

"I'm gonna head back to the station," Dean muttered as he walked towards the door, knowing better than to ask for the car. But to his surprise, he heard the jingle of keys and turned to see his father holding them up.

"Take the damn car," John grunted, chucking the keys at Dean.

He caught them. "Th-Thanks," he said.

"Dad, can I go with him?" Sam asked quietly. John pursed his lips, an uncharacteristic look of uncertainty on his face before he finally nodded. "Thank you sir," Sam said, quickly exiting the room behind his older brother, an unsettling feeling tugging at him.

* * *

"You again?" the man behind the desk asked when he looked up to see Sam and Dean enter the station.

"Yeah," Dean said as he tapped his father's ring of keys against his leg. He deposited them in his pocket and stepped forward. "Is there someone I can speak to about Tara?" he asked. The man rolled his eyes but nodded and gestured for Sam and Dean to come behind the desk and follow him. He led them through a maze of desks until he reached one at the end of the room with a name plaque that read _Detective L. Selting_.

"She should be back in a minute," he said dismissively as he started to walk away. Sam and Dean sat down in front of the desk silently. A fluorescent light buzzed and flickered overhead. A few minutes later a thin, olive-skinned woman in her early forties arrived.

"Can I help you?" she asked, surveying the two of them.

"Are you Detective Selting?" Dean asked. She nodded. "Then yes," he said. She raised an eyebrow at him but took a seat behind her desk. "I'm here about Tara Berthman. I know she's being held as a suspect because of Diane's death but --"

"Look, kid, if you're here to tell me she didn't do it, I don't need to hear it. The evidence says it all."

"Well, yeah, she didn't do it but that's not what I'm here about," Dean said quickly. The detective raised her eyebrow again but waited for him to continue. "Has she been formally charged yet? Does she have a lawyer?"

"No, she hasn't been charged yet," Detective Selting said.

"Then can she be released into my care?" Dean asked, knowing it was a long shot. "I can assure you that she's not a flight risk," he added.

Selting chuckled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," Dean lied swiftly, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and handing her his fake driver's license. She studied it for a moment. Sam glanced first at his brother then at her, watching nervously as she looked the card over.

"You say she's not a flight risk and you want me to release her into your care when this license was issued in Massachusetts? I don't think so, honey," she said with a shake of her head, handing the license back to him.

"My family is staying in a motel three blocks from here. Yeah, we live in Massachusetts but we're staying here as long as it takes to clear her. She's our cousin," Dean added quickly.

"A motel? You're really not strengthening your case here, Dean," she said.

"Please. Her girlfriend was murdered by some sicko and she's being locked away for it. She should have some time to grieve in peace," Dean said, his eyes boring into Selting's.

She shook her head. "Sorry kid. It's not gonna happen."

"Can we at least see her then?" Sam asked. Dean turned to look at his little brother, admiring the perfectly understated puppy dog look on his face.

A weary smile stole over the detective's face at Sam's expression. She shook her head. "It's past your bedtime, sweetie. Come back tomorrow if you wanna visit her."

* * *

"Wow, you're just in time," Detective Selting said the next day when Sam and Dean arrived at the station.

"In time for what?" Dean asked.

"A while after you two left a man came in and confessed to the murder of Diane Singer. Lab results came back this morning and proved it; his prints were on the knife. Berthman's free to go."

Both Sam and Dean tried to keep their faces from looking too shocked. They nodded weakly as the detective told them that Tara was being released from her cell at that moment. Sure enough, a moment later Tara was standing in front of them, dark shadows under her eyes.

"Get me outta here," she said softly.

* * *

_I couldn't go back to being a silent observer, Tara.  
So David Missick confessed, was taken into custody and shortly after, took his own life in the cell you'd been staying in. His poor wife and two daughters are distraught. But as far as the law is concerned, they got their man.  
Justice prevails. You're free.  
And you're welcome._

The inky black words were etched into the bland motel wallpaper, messy and practically oozing smugness. Dean, Sam and Tara stood there staring at it.

"I got back a few minutes before you three did. It was already like that," John told them from his seat at the rickety desk behind them.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, turning away from Kelly's handiwork and sighing. Sam put a hand on Tara's shoulder, guiding her away from the wall and toward the beds. She took a seat on the one that wasn't cluttered by research books and papers and rested her head in her hands.

"I'll get rid of it," Sam told the room at large as he headed into the bathroom. He grabbed a hand towel off of the nearby rack and ran it under the faucet. He wrung it out and went back into the room, walking purposefully towards the wall and beginning to scrub at it. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see it was his brother's, a small spark flaring in his gut at the contact.

Dean hesitated before gently pushing his brother away from the wall, sensing a tension in Sam's shoulders that matched his own. He knelt down and grabbed a pocketknife from out of his boot before straightening up and studying the wall for a minute, his fingers traveling over it. He found where the wallpaper overlapped and slid the edge of his blade under that line, loosening the paper and beginning to rip it away from the wall. Sam reached forward and helped rip strips of the wallpaper away, biting his lip as his forearm bumped into Dean's. The two continued their work until the entire message had been pulled off of the wall.

Dean reached in his jeans pocket, pushing his knife into it and pulling out a small silver lighter in exchange. "C'mon," he muttered to Sam. They both grabbed the bits of crumpled wallpaper that had fallen to the floor and carried it into the bathroom. They dropped the paper into the dry tub and Dean flicked the lighter on, throwing it in with the paper and watching as it licked and burned at Kelly's words.

"I never liked that wallpaper," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, we did this place a favor," Sam replied. He chanced a glance at his brother, only to see him looking back. The smallest flicker of a smile passed between them before it faded and they walked back out into the room where Tara and their father sat waiting for them.

* * *

_Tell me what you think. I'll try to have more soon though I feel like I'm hitting a slump in my writing. Well anyway, love y'all. :)  
~aep _


	77. A Blessing

**77. A Blessing**

Kelly hadn't made contact with them since she had scrawled her message on the wall two days ago. The police had wrapped up Diane's murder quickly enough but the bloodstains on the kitchen floor were still there even though the yellow tape had been taken down. Unable to bear going home, Tara had gotten a motel room a few doors down from the Winchesters'.

She unfurled the newspaper in front of her and froze at the top headline: _David Missick Confesses to Murder, Kills Self_. She dared herself to read on, a dread-filled curiosity drove her. Whatever happened to this man was on her head.

_David Missick, 41, loving husband and father of six-year-old twin girls, gave a shocking confession to police late Friday night. He told officers that he had murdered Diane Singer in her apartment while her roommate lay sleeping in the next room. Forensic evidence supported his confession; his fingerprints were found on the knife used to stab and kill Singer._

Tara skimmed through the article, finishing what was on the front and finding the page it continued on.

_Shortly after he had been taken to his cell, a young officer making the rounds found Missick lying on the floor, dead. It appears he --_

Tara cast the paper aside, running her hands roughly through her thick hair. Messy brown curls fell in her face and she pulled them away, staring up at the ceiling and holding back her tears. David Missick, an innocent bystander with a family, led to the slaughter by Kelly -- adding to the tragedy she had already so skillfully orchestrated.

* * *

John had been holding back what he needed to say out of respect for Tara's loss but he wasn't going to keep quiet any longer. "Dean," he muttered. Dean walked over to the desk where his father sat and stood there silently.

"Until we can figure out a way to get rid of Kelly you need to cut ties with your friend." Dean took a seat across from his father and sighed, his shoulders slumped and his hands folded in his lap.

"But, Dad, I --"

"No, Dean. You're being selfish. You've endangered her enough already. Forget about her. Kelly's focus will shift back onto us. We know how to handle the supernatural. Tara doesn't."

"I-I can't just turn off my feelings for her. It doesn't work like that," Dean protested.

"Bleeding hearts are no use to anyone. You have to control your emotions if you ever wanna be a real hunter!" John said sternly, forcing himself to keep his voice level.

Sam stood up from the bed he had been inhabiting and came to stand by Dean. His arms crossed tightly against his chest as he spoke to his father. "What are you talking about, Dad? You're led by your emotions all the time! It's why you became a hunter." He didn't bother to keep his voice down. He couldn't believe the utter hypocrisy of what his father was saying to Dean.

"Sammy, shut up," Dean muttered, not wanting to escalate their father's apparent frustration. He could see John bristle from out of the corner of his eye.

"You," John started, "You'll understand when you're older. Both of you." He swiped a hand over his face. "So you're going to go tell that girl goodbye. We're going to leave. You're gonna forget about her. You're gonna focus on finding a way to kill Kelly and that's that." John stood from his seat and walked out of the room. Sam and Dean heard the Impala roar into life and drive away.

"Dammit," Dean whispered under his breath, standing and leaning heavily against the desk. He stood up suddenly, turning and kicking at it with all his might. Sam flinched slightly.

"Dean , I'm, I'm sorry," Sam muttered, fully expecting some cold retort. None came. But something Dean had told him before rang through his head; _"Stop trying to kiss it and make it better."_ Sam clenched his jaw and wished he didn't want to console his brother. Not like that. But he did. "God," he whispered to himself as he sank down beside one of the beds and leaned his head against it.

_What the hell am I gonna do?_ Dean thought to himself. _I can't leave Tara here. I can't believe Dad's being so fucking callous. Well, yeah, I can. Goddammit._ He stared at expanse of naked wall where Kelly's message had been. "That bitch!" he shouted, startling Sam again.

Dean began to pace the room, moving faster with each step. Sam stood and grabbed hold of his arm. Dean ripped it out of his brother's grasp but he stopped walking. He turned to look at the young man in front of him, those eyes full of concern and sorrow. Dean sighed and fell into Sam, wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in his neck. He felt the warmth of Sam's arms reciprocating the hug and tears began to well at the corners of his eyes.

He lifted his head to see tears shining in Sam's eyes as well. They stared into each other and before Dean realized what he was doing, his lips were pressed against his little brother's. He pulled away a second later, gasping, eyes wide. Sam's expression was identical and a heavy silence hung in the air except for the sound of their breathing.

"Oh God," Dean whispered, putting a hand to his mouth. "D-Dad --"

"I know," Sam whispered back. "Does this mean the spell is --"

"I don't know!" Dean replied, fisting his hands through his short hair. "Look, nothing happened, not really. But, um, I-I'm gonna leave now before something does." The younger Winchester nodded and watched as his brother bolted from the room.

Sam's hand traveled up to his lips, resting there.

Dean found himself flying by the different motel rooms until he came to a sudden stop in front of Tara's door. How could he go in there and tell her what had just happened when she was still reeling from something far more devastating? Even if that kiss had broken the enchantment it was nothing compared to the weight of Diane's death. He knew all that but he couldn't help feeling a heightened sense of panic, even more intense than the one he had felt when reading Kelly's message on the wall.

Dean ran his hands through his hair again and stared at the number that marked Tara's door. He turned away from it, staring out at the dark parking lot before him. _Where the hell are you gonna go, Dean? Another bar to drink and fuck your worries away?_ he asked himself loathingly. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them, hard, until fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. He turned back to the door and finally knocked. "It's Dean," he called through the door.

He heard movement and moment later the door opened to reveal a rather disheveled Tara. She gestured for him to come in, closing the door behind him with a snap. He took a seat on the bed and studied her as she came to sit down next to him. Her hair was greasy and unbrushed and the circles around her eyes had grown darker.

"How did Kelly do it?" she asked, leaning her head against Dean's shoulder. When Dean remained silent Tara continued. "I mean how did she pull this whole thing off? How'd she get this poor guy to take the blame?"

"Simple," a smug voice said.

Kelly had materialized before them, arms crossed over her chest and a smile on her lips. "I don't like to brag but… screw it, I'm dead but not gone. That's something to brag about right there."

Tara sat frozen on the bed but Dean was on his feet, standing between the ghost and his friend like a protective shield. Kelly rolled her eyes at him but continued speaking.

"It wasn't exactly hard to possess the lab tech overseeing the case. I walked him right out of there, that knife hidden in his pocket, and got him to the motel room where our dear Mr. Missick was staying."

Kelly smiled and stared off into space as though recalling a fond memory. "Missick was passed out drunk. It wasn't hard to get his prints. I went back to the lab, filed the report and sent it off." She added in a hushed tone; "Our handy little lab technician had the weekend off so it was simple enough to kill him. He was shy, kept to himself, they won't notice he's gone for a while."

"You bitch," Dean muttered.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Do you wanna hear the story or not? I know you're curious." Dean had nothing to say to that and he and Tara listened as Kelly continued with an unnerving note of accomplishment in her tone. "Went back to David (still drunk) and took him over. I marched into the police station and gave them his confession. And well, you know the rest." Her eyes narrowed as she watched them, waiting for some kind of response.

"All these innocent bystanders…" Tara whispered.

"Some. Not all. David Missick isn't as squeaky clean as you'd think. Those adorable twin daughters of his -- he started molesting them while they were still in diapers." There was a bitterness in her voice that sounded almost… vulnerable. "I did the world a favor, trust me."

"What about that lab tech or, or D-Diane?" Tara spat, finally standing and stepping forward, pushing past Dean until she was mere inches away from Kelly.

"Casualties," Kelly said with a shrug.

"No. It's more than that. You enjoy it," Tara said. Kelly just shrugged again, not denying it.

Dean grabbed Tara's wrist and pulled her back towards him and away from Kelly. "Alright, are you done running your mouth or is there a special reason you're here?" he asked Kelly through clenched teeth.

"Actually, yeah," she said. Dean wanted to rip the smug smile off of her face. "I wanted to prove to you that I'm not always the bearer of bad news. I just don't want you boys to worry."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked with his hand still around Tara's wrist.

"Well, I saw what just happened between you two," Kelly said, the corners of her mouth pulling up into a bigger smile.

"What --"

"The kiss," she said in a stage whisper. Dean could feel his skin crawling against the muscle.

"Fuck you," Dean spat.

Kelly rolled her eyes and continued. "You don't get it. I'm here to tell you that despite certain… issues of morality, you can go ahead and suck the lips off of your little brother if you want to. And I know you do."

"Once again I think 'fuck you' covers everything I wanna say to you," Dean whispered. He felt Tara twitch and realized that his fist had tightened on her wrist in his anger. He quickly released her.

"Okay, let me cut to the chase here," Kelly said, drawing Dean's attention back to her. "That little spell that your daddy's under won't break if you two start up again with the nasty little things you do to each other." She sighed at the look of defiance on Dean's face and took a step closer to him.

"Shut up," Dean said as he moved forward too, once again stepping in front of Tara like a shield. Although this time it wasn't just to protect her, it was to protect himself from seeing the look on her face. Of course he remembered how supportive she had always been of him in spite of everything he had confessed to her but the way Kelly was talking was so brutal. Harsh and crude and blatantly honest. Just the fact that Tara was here to witness this conversation filled Dean with a sense of shame, one that was writhing in him like a snake unfurling itself and rising up through his body.

"Dean, listen to me. That spell is a blessing not a curse. Your buddy Pastor Jim, well, he lied to you." Dean shook his head disbelievingly. "Come on, it's not exactly the first time a man of the cloth has lied."

"I don't believe you," Dean said coldly.

Kelly pursed her lips for a moment, studying Dean closely. "I am telling you the truth, Dean. About everything. You'll figure that out sooner or later."

* * *

_Tell me what you think. I'm still feeling kinda blah writing-wise but I hope this is okay. I'll get my groove back.  
~aep _


	78. Paths

**78. Paths**

Dean started at the sound of Tara's weak but determined voice breaking the momentary calm. "Missick really was…?" she left the question hanging there, as if needing some shred of reassurance to hang onto that all the recent deaths hadn't been in vain.

Kelly nodded. "By the time those girls were twelve, one of them would be pregnant with his child." She paused for a moment. "And you wanna know what else?" she asked, slowly stepping closer to Tara and Dean. "Let me show you."

Her hands reached forward and she placed one on each of their foreheads. Dean felt that familiar but disconcerting connection to Kelly and this time to Tara as well, knowing she would take this journey with him. Dean shuddered at Kelly's touch; besides the strange chill that emanated from her fingertips, she felt real -- alive. He could feel her hand firmly against his skin until a tiny spark erupted and her fingers seemed to move through him, passing into the edge of his skull. His eyes grew heavy and once again the splash and crash of images and sounds tore through him until it settled and he was standing next to Tara and Kelly in the dimly lit upstairs hallway of a house.

Dean felt a sense of relief that he was a viewer and not a participant in this scene. He remembered all too well the physical sensations that had gone along with the last vision Kelly had shown him.

A door on their right opened and Tara could easily recognize David Missick from the paper; a tall man with dirty blond hair, a thin nose and dark eyes. He closed the door quietly behind him and walked past them. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet our father of the year," Kelly said. "Let's see where he's going, shall we?" Tara hated that playful note in Kelly's voice, sounding as if she were a game show host. The three of them followed behind Missick as he crept down the hall and opened another door.

Kelly sauntered right through him, disappearing for a second and reappearing behind him inside the room. She gestured for Dean and Tara to do the same and they did, coming to stand beside her in a corner of the dark room as David flicked on the light switch and closed the door behind him.

Dean blinked at the sudden light and looked around: a large, pastel pink bureau; a full-length mirror partially obscured by the hundreds of little stickers that surrounded the edges; a few posters with Disney princesses and kittens papering the wall; and finally purple bunk beds -- one tiny blond girl in each, blankets wrapped tightly around them though the room was warm.

"Hey girls," Missick whispered as he inched towards the beds. Dean's skin crawled as he watched the girls' father take a seat on the lower bunk and push aside his daughter's blanket. The girl was curled into herself, as small as possible, silently staring up at her father with wide eyes.

Dean's stomach flipped as he realized she couldn't have been more than four or five years old. He heard Tara gasp quietly and felt her hand grab for his, squeezing it tightly. "We don't need to see this," Dean hissed at Kelly.

"Oh, please! This is nothing." Kelly threatened.

"Please, no," Tara whispered. "Get us out of here."

Kelly rolled her eyes but raised a hand and made a swirling motion with her finger. A second later the room began to spin until everything was a blur. "Alright, fast-forwarding through years of quality _daddy-daughter_ time and going straight to the main event," she said as the spinning began to subside and the girls' bedroom came into focus again. It was empty this time and it was clear that years had passed. The pink bureau had been traded in for an old oak one; the long mirror that had been covered with stickers had been scrubbed clean; the girly posters had been taken down and the bunks had been replaced by two separate beds.

The door opened and the twins walked through it, older and haunted. Though they were genetically identical it was hard to tell. One girl was so thin that Dean could see the outline of her skeleton through her clothes. She tried to hide behind her long hair and slightly baggy clothes. The other sister looked relatively healthy in comparison with fuller cheeks, clothes that fit and shorter hair that stayed tucked behind her ears instead of being used as a tool to disguise her face. They walked over to one of the beds and sat down together, shoulders touching.

"I'm sorry," the thinner one whispered, her hand reaching out to her sister's swollen stomach.

"It's not your fault, Kayla," the other girl replied softly.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Twelve years old and already four months pregnant? What is this world coming to?" Kelly muttered with a forced smile. Dean studied her expression. But the sound of footsteps made the girls start and Dean's attention snapped back to them.

The sisters stared at the door as heavy footfalls grew closer until it flew open and their father stepped through it. His blond hair was streaked with a few grays and some thin wrinkles now graced his features.

"Hi girls," he said with what looked like a genuinely loving smile. "Tanya, you have a physical tomorrow but…" He paused for a moment as he glanced down at her stomach, a shadow crossing his face. "But I, I think I should cancel it for you."

"D-Dad, I really think she should go," Kayla stuttered, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face and looking up at him.

His jaw clenched and he shook his head. "It's actually not necessary. N-No one needs to know about --"

"But what if something's wrong? Now that this has... happened we should --" Kayla interrupted him but was quickly silenced by the look on her father's face.

His eyes had suddenly grown wild, panicked and furious like some fierce animal. It distorted his face until he was barely recognizable. He stepped forward swiftly, grabbing Kayla's arm and whispering, "No. No." He turned to his other daughter, staring down at her stomach.

"Tanya, why'd you have to get this family into such a mess?" he growled as he stared into her terrified eyes. Dean couldn't believe how twisted this man's mind was. How could he think that it was his daughter that had disgraced him? "The two of you. I should've never let your mother have you. Should've aborted you both. Should've known you were gonna tempt me," David whispered, his bulging eyes turning from one girl to the other.

"Dad, please," Kayla spoke up again, her voice timid and desperate. Silence settled between the three of them. Dean studied Missick closely; tight shoulders, heaving chest, burning eyes.

"Dad?" Tanya whispered. His eyes traveled over her face before moving down to rest at her stomach again.

"Our dear Mr. Missick has managed to avoid suspicion all his life -- a fine, upstanding citizen and a _wonderful_ father. He knows that façade is finally about to be ripped away. He knows he's going to be revealed for the monster he is. So what does he do? Digs himself into a hole even deeper…." From the way Kelly was speaking, it could have been assumed that she was narrating for Dean and Tara but something in her voice told Dean she was really speaking more to herself.

Suddenly, Missick lashed out, grabbing Tanya's wrist and yanking her up until she was pressed against him. "You little slut. You got yourself pregnant and ruined everything. Everything!" Tanya struggled against her father but he held her tight to him.

Kayla stood up and clawed at her father. "Stop! Let her go! Daddy!" He swung an arm out, hitting Kayla so hard that she fell to the floor in an instant. He threw Tanya down onto the floor too. His leg swung back, then shot forward, landing hard in Kayla's side to keep her from standing up again. She clutched at her bony hip and groaned in pain.

Tara gasped and grabbed onto Dean's arm as she watched. David lifted his leg before slamming it down straight into Tanya's stomach. "Oh God, stop!" Tara whispered.

"I did," Kelly said simply, turning Tara around to face her and causing Dean to turn too. Kelly stared into Tara's eyes and the sound in the room seemed to dim until there was nothing left but her voice: "I did stop him. I took him down. He'll never get the chance to beat those girls to death."

"He would've... He would've killed them?" Tara asked. Kelly nodded and gestured back at David who was now on the ground straddling both of his daughters and pummeling at them with his large fists. The sound suddenly returned, blaringly loud. Both girls shrieked with each blow he delivered, regardless of who was the actual recipient of it. Blood was beginning to splatter on the floor.

Dean couldn't bear standing there watching it happen when there was nothing he could do to stop it, even if it wasn't really happening. "Okay, Kelly, we get it. Get us out of here!" he shouted. Kelly nodded, rolling her eyes. With a clap of her hands, Tara and Dean's minds were propelled back into their bodies. Dean took a seat on the bed behind him, too dizzy to stand and Tara sank down next to him. They both looked up at Kelly silently. Finally, Dean spoke.

"Wait, last time you showed me… whatever it was -- my future, you said that you'd seen every possible way my life could play out and that it was still going to be miserable. So what about them? Did you really save them by killing their father?"

"You don't get it, sweetie," Kelly said patronizingly. "Killing Missick and therefore stopping him from abusing his daughters is a very small blip on the cosmic radar. Some people don't have a set path, a true destiny. Maybe they're just not special enough, I don't know," she said with a playful shrug.

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Kelly smirked and held up a hand to silence him. "But you, Dean," she said as if she had never stopped speaking, "Your fate is immutable."

Her smirk softened until it resembled something like a genuine smile. She took a step forward, her cold fingers caressing Dean's face. "You really are something special," she whispered before fading from sight.

* * *

_Sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out. Still sort of writing-slumpy. Plus, seriously busy with rehearsals and life in general. If any of you are in the Massachusetts area -- check me out in Jesus Christ Superstar! (I'm in the ensemble, but I have a few tiny solos.) Go to JCStix {dot} com. :)_

_Anyway, tell me what you think and I'll try to have more soon(er). Also, don't worry -- I haven't forgotten about the kiss. ;)  
~aep _


	79. Say Goodbye

**79. Say Goodbye**

Dean lunged forward, as if he could grab Kelly and trap her there. But of course his hands slid right through her and she disappeared. Once again the maddening sense of needing to somehow understand Kelly's logic struck him and he wished he could get more answers to the hundreds of questions boiling in his brain.

* * *

Sam ran a hand through his messy hair, wishing he could quiet his thoughts. They had kissed. For the first time in a long time. Sam found his mind wandering back to a few days before their father's spell had been cast. Pastor Jim's soft words reverberated in his ears: _"You have one week left…. Make the most of it."_

They _had_ made the most of it. They had held and touched and kissed for the last time. But then tonight they kissed. It had been exciting and terrifying and wonderful all at once.

There were hundreds of questions swirling in Sam's mind and he didn't have answers for them. What if that small kiss had torn through their disguise? Not just the disguise that the spell had put up for them, but the disguises they had created to protect each other -- pretending they didn't miss touching each other so much; the perfect denial, made stronger by the horrible events surrounding and distracting them.

Sam sighed and sank down onto the bed, throwing himself back and laying there as he stared up at the ceiling. More than the fear of having his father find out, Sam couldn't help but want his brother. He wanted Dean to be laying right next to him on the bed, holding him and kissing him again. His body suddenly tensed as he heard the scratch of a key on the other side of the motel door. He wasn't sure who he was more afraid to see -- his father or his brother. He didn't know if he could handle seeing Dean right now; not if he was supposed to keep his hands off of him. But seeing John was a nerve-wracking proposition as well. The door opened and, sure enough, John Winchester entered.

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered, sighing deeply. Tara nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"God, why did she show us that?" Tara whispered, voicing the same question Dean had been thinking.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think she was trying to prove anything to us, like justify her actions or anything. I think she just wanted to mess with our heads as much as possible."

"Well, she did a good job," Tara murmured. Dean made no reply, though he had to agree. Besides the horrible things Kelly had shown him tonight, something was nagging at him. And then he realized what it was: Sam. Sam and what Kelly had said about the spell. He knew he couldn't believe her. It was too easy. It had to be a lie, a set-up. But what if it wasn't? What if Kelly was just spinning his head around all over again; telling the truth just to confuse him even more? Her revelation couldn't have come at a better time, just moments after he had kissed Sam again for the first time in over… had it only been three weeks?

"She's gonna keep coming back, won't she? She's gonna keep torturing us." Tara said, breaking through Dean's thoughts.

"No," Dean said firmly. "Give me some time and I'll make sure she never comes back."

* * *

Sam shot up from the bed, standing there awkwardly as John discarded his coat and threw it on top of the nearby desk chair. He turned to study his youngest son. His eyes narrowed and Sam had to muster all his self control not to recoil.

"Where did Dean go?" John asked quietly as his eyes flickered to the empty bed.

"Uh, um. I-I think he went for a walk. He was kind of up-upset about your conversation. He really doesn't wanna have to leave Tara behind," Sam said nervously, the words rushing from his lips.

"What's wrong with you?" John asked, his eyes still narrow and focusing sternly on his son.

"N-Nothing. Just the Kelly thing, I guess," Sam muttered. He knew his father didn't believe him but John didn't question it further. Sam felt like bursting out laughing in relief. John didn't seem to know anything. _The spell really didn't break?_ Sam thought, barely letting himself believe it. It felt like too many near misses, how could his father be this clueless? Or how could Sam be this lucky? He continued to work to keep the relieved expression from breaking onto his face.

A thick silence had settled over him and the relief he had felt was quickly overcome by the all-too-rational fear that this was far from over. Given time, Kelly could probably be defeated. But this, this was some holding pattern that was never going to get anywhere. Sam didn't want it to, he knew the repercussions of the truth coming out. Still, how could he live with this constant lie on his lips? He was only fourteen. What would the rest of his life be like?

"Alright, I'm tired. I'm not gonna go running after Dean. So the minute he comes back, we're leaving, understood?" John asked his son as he took a seat on one of the beds.

Sam nodded. "Yes sir."

* * *

Dean pulled his key from his pocket and jammed it in the door, unlocking it pushing it open. He paused at the threshold when he saw his father in the room. His eyes darted to Sam who avoided his gaze.

"I took the liberty of having Sam pack up all your crap. We're leaving," John said. Dean had been expecting this and yet he felt like he had just been punched in the stomach.

"Lemme just… I need to say goodbye to Tara," Dean said, not bothering to mention that he had just been with her.

"Sam, get in the car," John muttered as he stood up and shouldered his bag. "Dean, you have ten minutes, after that we're going and you can hitch a ride to Ohio." Sam followed after his father, casting one quick glance at his big brother before looking away. Dean watched his family head to the car and get in it. He stood in a trance for a moment before running back to Tara's room and pounding on the door.

"It's me again!" he called. The door opened a second later and Dean grabbed his friend in a hug. "I have to go. I don't want to but my father's right. I have to take care of this case. I can't do that by staying here and trying to protect you. It didn't work anyway. I have to go after Kelly." The words spilled from his lips and into Tara's ear.

"I-I know," Tara whispered shakily. "Dean, I love you. Be careful. Please be careful. She's still watching."

Dean nodded and after another moment pulled out of the hug, his throat tightening too much to say another word. He squeezed her hand before releasing it and running to the Impala which was idling at the edge of the lot. He cast a final glance back at his friend before getting in the car and watching Tara shrink as he was driven away from her.

* * *

_So sorry it took me forever to get this new chapter out. And yes, sorry too that it's kind of short.  
Jesus Christ Superstar is over and I'm exhausted but I had a fantastic time. I miss everyone already. Anyway, I'm hoping to get back into my natural rhythm of writing soon (which means regular posts). Cross your fingers for me.  
And as always, tell me what you think.  
~aep _


	80. Avoiding Temptation

**80. Avoiding Temptation**

Dean looked in his side view mirror; it was empty and the road was still dark. He turned his head just enough to look into the back seat where Sam was huddled; his tall frame looking almost comical, trying to fit lying down across the seats. A worn, wrinkled sleeping bag covered him completely and Dean wasn't sure whether his little brother was actually sleeping or just pretending to be. He wouldn't blame Sam either way.

Dean turned back to face the front and noticed the pale orange glow outlining the road ahead as the sun began to rise slowly. The road stretched ahead of them, slowly gaining light, illuminating the cracks and potholes. Trees stood like an army of frozen guards on each side.

"Not much longer now," John muttered, the first time anyone had spoken since they had gotten into the car hours before. Dean nodded, his eyes slowly wandering back to Sam. The youngest Winchester shifted slightly, the sleeping bag slipping a bit and revealing his face. His brow was furrowed slightly but soon his expression changed, a tiny smile and a quiet moan.

"D--" Sam whispered in his sleep. Dean's jaw tightened. "Mm, Dea--" Dean reached back and shook Sam. Sam's eyes fluttered open and color began to rise in his cheeks. Their eyes connected for a moment before Dean turned away and faced the front. He studied John out of his peripheral vision but their father seemed focused on the road.

_Welcome to Harrison!_ Sam had just enough time to read the sign as they flew by it. Darkness began to sink over them like a blanket as the sun began to sink. They were finally back in the Wrights' hometown and hopefully one step closer to obliterating Kelly.

* * *

"There's a generator in the basement," Dean said as the car parked in a patch of dusty field in front of the Wrights' old house. "I'll go and start it up," he offered. John nodded. Dean grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and bolted from the car. The front door was unlocked and he quickly stepped inside, turning the flashlight on and making his way down to the cellar. It was a good excuse for a few minutes away from his family. He hated that being around the man he loved and respected was so unsettling. And then there was Sam, who lately felt like nothing more than a temptation to Dean.

_He's more than that,_ Dean reasoned with himself. _A lot more. He's my baby brother, my blood, my responsibility. The smartest, bravest kid I know. A kid -- fourteen._ "Fuck I hate this!" He muttered aloud as he descended the last stair. The flashlight cut a thin beam of yellow through the room. The light fell on the generator and Dean made his way towards it.

He set to work but soon his mind wandered from the task at hand and he found himself thinking about the kiss he and Sam had shared. Somehow their father hadn't realized anything. Was Kelly telling the truth? Her voice rang in his mind as he remembered what she said: _"That little spell that your daddy's under won't break if you two start up again with the nasty little things you do to each other."_

He knew he couldn't trust her and yet, didn't that kiss prove that she was telling the truth? "You don't know that," he whispered to himself. "Maybe a kiss doesn't count. Maybe, maybe the only thing that'd break the spell is if we took it too far…."

* * *

Sam stood in the doorway of the upstairs bedroom, his sleeping bag under his arm. Everything was as it was the last time he had seen it; the two beds pushed against opposite walls, the dresser with Eric's childhood homework on it, the windows that showed the field outside.

"Why can't we just stay at a motel?" Sam asked as Dean came upstairs.

"Dad wants to keep an eye on the place, get a real sense of it," Dean said, moving past Sam and entering the room.

"Yeah, I know but squatting in the place where two murderers were raised? Including one who's still after us…" Sam muttered the last part, finally stepping into the room and gingerly taking a seat on the bed in front of him. Dean walked slowly around the room before taking a seat on the other bed. "Where's Dad sleeping?" Sam asked.

"The guestroom down the hall. The other bedroom is… not really fit to stay in. It's where they died, Kelly and Eric. Where I killed them," Dean said. _And where I found them fucking each other,_ he thought to himself.

Sam studied the grimace on his older brother's face. "What are you thinking about?" he asked. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the bed and shrugged.

"I'm gonna go take a walk. Don't wait up, it's late," Dean said after a moment, rising and walking from the room.

* * *

Dean crept back into their room as the sky's black starting turning gray. He watched his little brother in the slowly growing light. Sam's hair was tousled and once again he was almost completely hidden by his sleeping bag. Dean took a seat on the opposite bed and watched as Sam's chest rose and fell under the sleeping bag. Dean sighed and laid down. Dean's hands slid up to cover his face before he let them fall back to his sides and willed himself to sleep.

Suddenly his father was shaking him awake. The sun burned his eyes as he opened them. "Dean, wake up," John said briskly. Dean sat up, rubbing at his stinging eyes before looking at his father. Sam opened his eyes and pushed his sleeping bag off of himself.

"I'm gonna see if I can get any information out of the sheriff. I want you and Sam to go the library and look for any articles involving the Wrights. Kelly and Eric, their parents, their grandparents -- anything. Got it?" Dean nodded. "Alright, let's go. I'll drop you off," John said, looking from one son to the other.

The car pulled over to the curb of the enormous stone building that was the library. Sam and Dean got out of the car and watched as it sped away. They walked up the steps together and entered the cavernous lobby. Sam walked over to a sign that had a small map of the place. His finger traveled across the little blueprint and stopped in one area. "Downstairs," he said.

Dean whistled when they arrived in the room that held the periodicals and newspaper archive. The large room had dozens of packed shelves that all reached the high ceiling. "Well, it looks like we have all the resources at our disposal. It just might take us a few weeks to sort through."

* * *

_Still not back in my groove but I'm working on it. More to come. Reviews and comments if you please!!! Thanks guys. :)  
~aep _


	81. Research

**81. Research**

Dean sighed exasperatedly as Sam took a step further into the room and looked around. "This might not actually take forever," Sam said, the corners of his mouth turning up as his eyes fell on a row of computers against the back wall.

Dean followed after Sam who was walking purposefully toward the row of computers. Sam took a seat in front of the computer on the end and turned it on. Within a minute or two Sam was typing furiously while Dean looked on.

"Okay, so they've scanned about one fourth of the newspapers in their inventory and the rest have been catalogued so either way it shouldn't be too hard to find what we need."

"Yay?" Dean said.

"Yes 'yay'. Okay, I did a search for articles containing the keyword Wright. We've got four hits, which isn't bad," Sam said, a little satisfied smile on his face.

"Hits?" Dean asked, pulling his chair in closer to see the computer screen.

Sam paused to look at his brother. "Dean, in all the schools we've attended over the years you never once sat in on a computer science class?"

"Hey, I don't do the nerd stuff," Dean said with a shrug.

"Yeah, well the _the nerd stuff_ comes in handy sometimes," Sam said, somewhat indignantly as he clicked on the first link.

_Two Children and Loving Husband Left to Mourn the Death of Terry Wright_ The headline of the scanned article read.

"1979… Their mom committed suicide?" Dean muttered as he looked over the article.

"Yeah, looks like Eric was eight and Kelly was five. Terry herself was only thirty-one." Sam said as he scrolled down to continue reading.

"Okay, go back to the last page, let's see what the other articles are about." Dean ordered. Sam pulled up the next article, this time only a short one covering the arrest of Donald Wright for disorderly conduct.

Dean sucked on his teeth as he scanned the paragraph. "Alright, a year later… Daddy Dearest got in a bar fight, state threatened to take his kids away if he didn't get his act together. He agreed to attend AA and anger management so they backed off. Next."

"And six years later they finally figure out Donald's been abusing Eric and Kelly…. They're sent off to foster care and he's sentenced to thirty years, out in ten with good behavior. Which is bullshit, they should've locked him up and thrown away the damn key," Sam muttered. Dean leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, last article?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, going back and clicking on the fourth article.

Sam skimmed it, summarizing to Dean as he went along. "Go figure, Donald's out in ten. And the night of his release, he's beaten and murdered in his own house. Cops didn't have enough evidence to figure out who did it. Gee, I wonder," Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

"Okay, so Kelly and Eric got their revenge. Why the hell did they have to keep killing people?" Dean asked, finally opening his eyes and leaning forward, staring blankly at the computer screen. Sam shrugged.

"I don't know. They were so damaged by then…."

"That's no excuse!" Dean said, louder than he intended, drawing the attention of the few other people in the nearby stacks.

"I know. Calm down," Sam said. Dean hated to see the concern in his little brother's eyes. "Okay, well, we got what we needed. Why don't we get out of here?" Dean nodded, standing abruptly and walking back towards the stairs, Sam following quickly behind him.

The two of them sat against the side of the massive library, their backs pressed against the cold stone. Dean clenched his jaw and sighed heavily. "I get why the monster of the week or, or demons do what they do. They're evil. End of story. But humans… how are people driven to do such fucked up things?"

He glanced at Sam who said nothing. "I mean, okay, we haven't had the perfect childhood but we don't go around lashing out and killing people."

"Well, to be fair, we do tend to take our aggression out on the things we hunt," Sam murmured.

"That doesn't count. Those things need killing," Dean said. Sam shrugged and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them to protect himself from the brittle February air.

"Cold," he muttered as a gust of wind ruffled his hair. He shifted a few inches closer to his big brother until their sides touched. Sam fully expected Dean to jerk away, but he didn't. He wanted to say everything was going to be okay but he knew that right now the silence was better. Sam tentatively leaned his head against Dean's, surprised to feel Dean leaning into him as well.

They both heard the distinctive purr of the Impala as it pulled up. They separated quickly and stood, making their way towards the car. "What'd you find?" John asked as they got in. Sam launched in, giving Dean some time to think to himself. John put the car in drive as Sam spoke and they made their way back to the Wrights' house.

"Can I take a look at those?" Dean asked, eying the police files in his father's hand as the three of them stepped out of the car.

John nodded, handing the folders to him. "I'm goin' out again. I'm gonna talk to the social worker who oversaw their foster care situation. Put the files in my room as soon as you're done with 'em."

"Yes sir," Dean said, watching as John got back in the car and drove off. The two brothers made their way inside, reaching the room once occupied by the Wright siblings. Once again Sam lingered in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside.

"Can I take a look at the files too?" Sam asked stepping closer as Dean took a seat on one of the beds. Dean nodded, standing abruptly and taking a seat on the floor. He knew he couldn't handle being on the same bed as Sam. He sighed and spread the three files out on the little threadbare rug under him. Sam took a seat beside Dean and watched as he opened the first file.

They leaned in to begin reading, both fully aware of their closeness. Dean hated to admit it because as much as he wanted to bring Kelly down, he couldn't keep his mind from wondering from the case. Thoughts began to collide in him; _Sam… the kiss. Dad. Tara…. God, that kiss!_

He stood and walked out the door, leaving Sam alone in the room. "Dean?" Sam called, scrambling to his feet and going after his brother. He chased Dean to the bottom of the stairs, grabbing his arm and stopping him from going any further.

"Come on, man. Talk to me," Sam said, gripping Dean's arm a little tighter.

"About what Sam? About how worried I am about Tara? And how worried I am that being worried about her is enough to make Kelly go back there and hurt her when I can't protect her? What about Dad?" He pulled his arm out of his little brother's grip and continued.

"How weird it is to be around him since the first time we kissed? And now that we kissed again? What about that, Sam? The spell and why it didn't break? Oh, and then, then there's being in this house and knowing what Eric and Kelly did to each other and thinking about what I've done to you…" Dean finally stopped ranting, his voice fading away as he looked into his brother's eyes.

"Dean, I-I know. I've been thinking about all the same things. The only difference is I don't blame everything on you. Not everything is your responsibility, Dean," Sam said, his voice wavering slightly. Dean wanted to protest but suddenly felt too drained to make any sort of response. Sam sighed and grabbed his big brother in a hug. Dean stiffened, then sighing, he finally allowed himself to wrap his arms around his baby brother.

_- A/N: Excited about tonight's ep? This is the first time all season that I haven't scoured the web for spoilers. I've been a good girl. So shh, don't tell me what happens because I can't watch the episode until tomorrow. But in the meantime, tell me what you think!  
~aep _


	82. Truth

**82. Truth**

_"That spell is a blessing not a curse…. Pastor Jim… he lied to you."_ The words played in Dean's head. He wished he could believe them. And yet he found that he also had to scold himself for already believing what Kelly had said. The possibility that she had told him the truth was far more unnerving that if she had lied. He swiped a hand over his face and sighed, leaning back into the small twin bed and staring at the moon outside the window. He had placed the files in his father's room without finishing them, he would look at them again tomorrow; build up the courage to really read through all the atrocities.

Sam slowly shifted away from the wall and found his eyes traveling to the other occupied bed. He could see Dean's glassy eyes gazing through the window. Two tiny, white pinpricks of the moon reflected there. Dean turned his head, his eyes meeting Sam's who blushed and turned away.

Dean was suddenly standing. He walked over to his brother, taking a seat beside him on the bed. Sam turned to face his brother again, glancing away only for a moment to look at the closed bedroom door.

_"It's not exactly the first time a man of the cloth has lied,"_ Kelly's voice rang through his skull. Dean buried his head in the crook of Sam's neck. Sam nervously raised his hands, resting them on Dean's back. A motion Dean recognized as far more mature than an average fourteen-year-old boy's behavior. _A blessing not a curse… Pastor Jim… lied to you."_

"Fuck it," Dean whispered, raising his head and slamming his lips against Sam's. Sam gasped and pushed his brother away. "Don't you want to?" Dean asked, confused by Sam's reaction.

"I-I, yeah. Yes. So much but… I don't know, slow down. I mean, the spell --" he paused. "What if it doesn't hold up for a second kiss? Or what if we go too far? Or j-just forget the spell for a second, I mean Dad's down the hall!" Sam could hardly believe he was the one protesting and yet something in his gut told him he had to.

Dean took a deep breath and pushed himself to the edge of the bed, away from Sam. "You're right," he said softly, ashamed of himself. Yet as guilty as he felt, that yearning was still eating away at him. Besides the immediate issue of being in such close quarters with their father, the nagging thought Kelly had left him with was consuming him. "I have to find out," he whispered.

"What?" Sam asked. Dean didn't answer as he stood from the bed and made his way downstairs. He reached into his father's coat hanging on the rack and pulled the keys out. Sam watched from the top of the stairs as his brother walked out the door.

Dean got into the Impala, slamming the door hard. He knew if he took the back roads at breakneck speed he might be able to make it to Minnesota by morning.

The sun had just begun to come up as he pounded against the rough wood door. It flew open and Dean stepped through it, slamming the door shut behind him. "You lied to me, didn't you?" Dean asked, his eyes boring into Pastor Jim's. Dean waited for a response but when he didn't receive one, it was answer enough.

"So the spell really only affects our father. Not us," Dean said, pushing Pastor Jim into the dark sanctuary until he had knocked the man against the side of a pew.

"I was trying to protect you from repeating a pattern. John is a good man but if he saw you two together again and those memories came rushing back --"

"Yeah, it'd be dangerous. I'll give you that. But this should've been our choice to make," Dean said, his fists balled tightly at his sides.

"You're young, Dean. The both of you are so young. Impulsive and --"

"In love?" Dean interrupted. Pastor Jim cast his eyes down, seemingly unable to look Dean in the eye.

"Dean, it's not my place to judge, but you know what you want to do is not right. Not right for you or your family," Pastor Jim said softly, taking a seat in the pew he had been backed up against.

"You're right. It's really not your place to judge. You're supposed to be a pastor but you're a liar. A man of the cloth who consorts with witches. What about that? That's a little weird, isn't it?" Dean asked, leaning forward, his hands gripping the pew tightly as he breathed into Jim's face.

"I'm sorry Dean."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Dean asked angrily. Pastor Jim didn't speak. "Fuck you," Dean spat, turning and leaving Pastor Jim sitting there. He rushed to the Impala and sped off back to the Wrights' house, back to Sam.

"Dean, where the hell did you go?" John shouted the minute Dean had entered the house. Night had fallen again by the time he had gotten back to Harrison.

"Um, I-I'm sorry. Last night I remembered something Kelly had told me. I was trying to track down a lead…" Dean's voice trailed away at the expression on his father's face. Sam descended the stairs, stopping at the last one to watch the confrontation.

"Well, what'd you find?" John asked after several moments of silence.

"Well, uh, nothing. It didn't pan out," Dean murmured.

"So you took my damn car on a bogus lead? You left Sam and me stranded here all day. We didn't know where the hell you were. Dean, what the hell kind of behavior is this? You know better!" John shouted.

"Yes sir. Y-You're right. I'm sorry," Dean said, unable to look his father in the eye.

"Just go to your room," John seethed, his voice coming out in a dangerous whisper.

"Yes sir," Dean said again, eyes on his feet as he walked past his little brother and up the stairs.

"Where did you go?" Sam asked as he entered the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. He eyed his big brother who sat hunched on the bed.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to divulge what had been confirmed by his trip to Blue Earth, Minnesota. As much as he hated to admit it, Pastor Jim was right -- the existence of their relationship was dangerous, damaging to their whole family.

"It's not important," Dean muttered finally.

"Bullshit. It was important enough that you disappeared for more than twenty-four hours. Where'd you really go?" Sam asked, advancing on his brother until a few inches of air was all that stood between them. The momentary silence was punctuated by the sound of the Impala's engine roaring into life and taking off. Both brothers glanced out the window to see the car disappear into darkness.

"Dad's gone. You can tell me the truth," Sam said, his voice taking on a softer tone. Dean shook his head, eyes looking into Sam's face.

"Sometimes the truth just makes things messier," Dean whispered, his throat tightening. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on!" Sam said, the exasperation ringing clear in his voice though his eyes were pleading.

"Drop it," Dean said, his gaze dropping to the floor. He felt his brother take a seat next to him, trying to ignore the closeness of their bodies.

"Seriously Dean? Sammy can handle it, can't you Sammy?" Both brother's heads shot up to see Kelly standing in the center of the room.

"I'm getting really sick of you showing up like this," Dean grunted, eyes burning into hers.

Kelly smiled innocently, batting her eyelashes before blowing him a little kiss. "Missed you too, honey," she said. She turned her eyes to Sam. "So, you wanna know what your big bro's hiding from you?"

The color drained from Sam's face, all the frustration and curiosity seemed to slip out of him, replaced by reluctance and what Dean thought looked like fear. The fourteen-year-old's jaw set with defiance, silently expressing to Kelly that even if he wanted to know he didn't want to hear it from her.

"Oh good, you're all ears," Kelly said, the slightest trace of sarcasm playing in her voice. A glimmer passed through her eyes as she took a deep breath, preparing to speak again.

"Don't," Dean grunted, his eyes glinting as he stared into her smug face.

"I don't know if your brother is too scared of Daddy or if he's sick of you but he known for a while that Johnny's spell really has no effect on you two." Dean looked nervously at Sam whose face had seemed to darken in the past moment. "What I'm trying to say is Dean's been lying to you, or to be fair, omitting certain facts." She paused for dramatic effect.

"I honestly don't get why Dean hasn't been jumping your bones since he's known that doing so wouldn't make Daddy remember a thing…. The spell only pertains to his brain, not your behavior." Kelly smiled at the expression on Sam's face.

"Aw Sam, I'm sorry to break it to you like this. I know just how much you've been lusting after your big brother, how much you've been missing his cock ins--"

"Shut the fuck up you _bitch_!" Dean shouted, getting to his feet, his cheeks burning and his hands balled into fists.

Kelly sucked on her teeth and studied Dean's tense stance for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right Dean. Sometimes the truth really does just make things messier." That patented smirk crossed her face just before her form flickered before the brothers' eyes. She shimmered like the air above a fire before fading from sight.

_Thanks so much to rog457 for inspiring the idea of a confrontation between Dean and Pastor Jim! As always, give me your love in the form of comments and reviews. And as you can see, suggestions are always welcome and will be credited if used. :)  
~aep _


	83. Not Ready

**83. Not Ready**

Sam stood slowly from the bed, a hand reaching up hesitantly and brushing against Dean's shoulder before backing away slightly. Dean turned to face his littler brother, a grimace on his face. "It's true," Sam whispered, "isn't it?" Dean's jaw clenched tighter before finally nodding.

"But, but I swear it's not because of what that bitch said. I haven't stayed away because I'm tired of you or anything like that. I just don't wanna lose control again -- don't want Dad to find out again," Dean tried to explain. He watched as Sam bit his lower lip and nodded slowly, calmly.

"Makes sense," Sam muttered, his voice coming out like a wisp of smoke. He turned his back on his older brother and tried to take a deep breath that caught in his chest. "No, you know what?" Sam said, his voice becoming sturdier, "It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense for you to try to hide things from me, important things that _involve_ me. It doesn't make sense that you try to shoulder all these burdens alone." He turned back to face Dean, making an effort to unclench the fists that had balled up at his sides when he had started speaking.

"Why do you think it's your job to keep this whole damn family together?"

"Because I have to!" Dean shut his eyes in frustration for a moment. "Son of a bitch," he whispered. "Sam, I'm so sick of you trying to get me to talk all my feelings out. Not everything has to be discussed. And definitely not now. We've had so many stupid confrontations and they never end well!" Dean shouted. He ran a hand through his short hair and spun around where he stood, debating whether or not to just walk out of the room.

Sam's eyes followed his brother's clouded profile closely. "Oh come on, you're not gonna run away again, are you?" Dean clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, not saying a word. The two of them stood in silence for a moment before Dean proved his little brother right and walked out of the bedroom.

Sam stood there, fuming, before following Dean who had already made his way outside. He could just barely make his brother out in the darkness as he sped to catch up with him. Dean quickened his pace, walking further into the field of matted, frosted grass.

"Dean! Jesus Christ! Stop!" Sam shouted, ten feet away from Dean. The older brother finally halted and slowly turned to face Sam.

"How long have you known?" Sam asked, his voice suddenly quiet but clearly heard in the stillness. "How long have you known that the spell has no power over us?" he prompted, forcing himself to calm down and praying for an answer that he could understand.

Dean sighed, shoulders dropping slightly before he finally spoke. "Last week. Kelly told me right after we'd kissed again. I didn't want to believe her though," Dean began.

Even in the darkness Dean could see the glimmer of hope begin to fade from Sam's eyes. "You didn't want to believe there was a chance --?"

"Sam, don't. It's not that I didn't want to believe, I just didn't think I could trust her so I wasn't gonna risk it. That's where I was today -- finding out if she'd told me the truth. I went to see Pastor Jim."

"Right," Sam muttered. He bit his lip before asking his next question. "If Kelly hadn't shown up and told me, would you have ever said anything to me?" Dean's silence answered for him.

"God, why do you think you have to hide from me? Protect me from everything -- from yourself?" Sam asked furiously, walking forward until he had cut the distance between them in half. A shiver ran through both boys as a particularly strong gust of wind swept through them.

"_Say something!_" Sam shouted into the night. He charged towards his brother, pushing hard enough that Dean had to take a step back to keep from tripping. "What? You can't think of what to say or are you keeping something else from me?" Sam's hands shot forward again, pushing Dean so hard that this time he actually fell onto the frozen ground.

Dean _was_ keeping something else from Sam. He wouldn't admit to how badly he ached for his brother's touch. Even Sam's furious action of pushing Dean to the ground had sent a spark of excitement through the older boy. Dean forced himself not to move, afraid of how he would act once he and Sammy were eye to eye again.

Sam felt a twinge of guilt for pushing Dean down but his anger was enough to mask it. "Dean, just talk to me. Why can't you ever talk to me?"

"I don't do talk, Sammy. Not if I can help it," Dean said quietly. Another bitingly cold gust of wind hit them. Sam grunted in frustration, jamming all his fingers through his shaggy hair and trying not to shiver. He shook his head and stared down at his big brother. He knelt down beside Dean who made to move away.

"Why do you keep running from me?" Sam yelled, his anger flaring up again. Before he had even realized it, his fist had shot out, making contact with Dean's face.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean muttered, gingerly touching his aching cheek. His hand fell away from his face as he looked into Sam's eyes. "I'm not running from you. I'm running from… me," he finally said.

"Yeah, well good luck with that," Sam said coldly.

"God, Sam, why can't you just leave me alone?" Dean asked. Sam's eyes widened disbelievingly as he stood up, grabbing Dean by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his feet with surprising strength.

"Why can't I leave you alone? 'Cause you're my brother and I love you, you moron!" Sam shouted. "I love you," Sam said again. Dean shook his head. This time Sam was fully aware of his hand balling into a fist and punching Dean.

"Will you stop that?" Dean shouted.

"That's what I've been asking you!" Sam spat. He made to throw another punch but Dean blocked it, wrestling him to the ground and pinning him there.

"Stop," Dean whispered.

"Make me," Sam replied defiantly.

"Sam… don't." Dean was keenly aware of the growing warmth he felt despite the cold around him. He tried to get up off of his brother but Sam grabbed his wrists and pulled him back down. Sam tried to suppress a shiver and suddenly all Dean could think was he needed to keep his little brother warm. Dean collapsed on top of Sam, fighting back tears as he wrapped his arms around his brother and held him close, trying to convince himself that he was only doing this to protect Sam from the cold. _You could make him go inside the house if you really wanted to protect him,_ he told himself. He banished the thought from his head and just clung to Sam tighter.

Sam shut his eyes and wished that Dean could always be this close to him but then another thought crept into his head. He remembered the conversation between Pastor Jim and his father that he had been listening on in. The overpowering clashing emotions of anger and lust began to drain out of him as he heard John's voice ring in his head. _"A part of me actually wanted to see Dean hurt by that wolf. I was gonna let him die…"_

John had found out once, if they started acting on their feelings again who was to say that he wouldn't discover their relationship again? The spell would be broken, his memories would come rushing back and he'd be more furious than ever. How would he react a second time?

"Y-You're right," Sam whispered, opening his eyes. Dean looked into his little brother's face questioningly. "Maybe you're right to run away. I mean, the way Dad acted last time… It's sort of inevitable that he'd find out if we started... things up again. And then what?" Sam hated that he was saying these words, could hardly believe that he was but he knew he had to.

Dean nodded slowly, clenching his jaw and moving to get off of his little brother. The frozen grass beneath them crunched at his shifting. Sam grabbed Dean's arm and gently pulled him back towards him. "But you said --" Dean started.

"I'm not ready to let go yet."

_Lately I've been making my regular posting day Thursdays and I intend to keep on doing that but I felt like I'd post this one on Wednesday for y'all since I finished it all up. Tell me what you think! And oh my God... are you guys excited/dreading the season 5 finale tomorrow? I am. lol. Love ya._

_Oh and it's kinda weird, FF seems to be cutting out my formatting -- the line I put between the chapter and the author's note and even the three asterisks that separate scenes in the chapters. :( Kind of annoying. Well, sorry about that.  
~aep _


	84. Give It Time

**84. Give It Time**

They walked back to the house in silence, the wind still trying to chip away at their skin. Dean held the door open for Sam who walked through it and shot up the stairs. He went to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Dean sighed and mounted the stairs, heading to their room and taking a seat on his bed as he stared off into space.

Sam lowered the toilet lid and took a seat on it, cradling his head in his hands, sniffling and forcing back tears. But before long he didn't have the strength to hold them in any longer and he watched through blurry eyes as tears began to drip off his cheeks and onto his pants.

"Dammit," he whispered to himself. _Why'd you have to say anything? Why couldn't you have just let him hold you?_ He sighed and stood up from the toilet, pacing the length of the small bathroom. _Why can't I just act like some normal, immature, horny fourteen-year-old who doesn't care about anything? Or better yet, why can't I just not have these goddamn feelings for Dean?_

He kicked at the wall and began to shed his layers of clothing. He tore off his jacket followed by his flannel shirt and t-shirt before turning his attention to his lower half. Within a minute he stood naked in the center of the bathroom, staring into the full-length mirror set in the door. "Why am I like this?" he whispered, staring into his own eyes. His mind began to analyze the question but he shut the unpleasant answers out. He couldn't stand to think about the specifics of what made him who he was. The long and short of it was that he was a freak.

*** Break ***

Dean slid off the bed, pressing his palms hard against his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about Sam, stop crying over Sam. He had shed enough tears. He searched frantically for something, anything else to think about when it hit him. Tara. He hadn't spoken to her in days, not since they left her in that hotel room by herself. Part of the reason he hadn't called was because he didn't want to draw Kelly's attention to her but before long Tara had actually slipped his mind. He felt so selfish. It seemed that once again his own drama with Sam blotted everything else out.

He didn't know if he should actually try to contact her but the more he thought about her the more worried he became, the more he had to hear her voice. He would have to wait until John came back with the car, and even then he knew John wouldn't let him near the car on his own after he had taken it without permission.

"Dammit," he whispered, his hands finally falling away from his face and landing on the threadbare rug he was sitting on. _I'm gonna have to wait to talk to her. But what about in the meantime?_ His thoughts were tugged away from Tara as he heard the showerhead sputter into life from the bathroom.

Sam stood under the weak stream of freezing water. An involuntary shiver passed through him and he turned the knob all the way to the right, hoping for some heat but it didn't come. He ran his hands along his body, fast and carelessly before slowing down and really feeling his own skin, the water sliding over the emerging goosebumps. He sighed and sunk down until he was sitting cross-legged in the tub with the water pouring down on him. He put the discolored rubber stopper in the drain and let the water rise around him. Once the bathtub was filled he reached up and turned off the stream of water. He sat there in the coldness, letting his body adjust to the temperature and trying to force his mind go blank.

"You know, I've been sorta picking on Dean but I was thinking about getting to know you a little better." Kelly's voice sounded quietly in Sam's ear. He shot up, water splashing out of the tub at the sudden movement. Kelly stood before him with the water passing through her legs as she eyed him, her gaze lingering as if he were a piece of meat or perhaps a sensational work of art.

Sam rushed out of the bath, grabbing up his clothes and forcing them on, his wet skin soaking the fabric. "Why the hell do you feel the, the need to keep showing up like this?" Sam grunted. He glanced at the bathroom door, hoping Dean couldn't hear. Kelly had toyed with him enough, Sam could handle her on his own.

"Oh Sammy, always thinking of your darling brother," Kelly said, ignoring his question and stepping out of the tub, coming to stand a few inches from Sam's face. "Don't worry, I was the same way. Still am, really." Her face turned sour and she sucked on her teeth for a few seconds before continuing. "You know I loved Eric… The way you love Dean. I mean, not at first. We didn't get to fall like you did, we were forced. But over time, feelings did develop."

Sam stared into her face for a minute, taking in what she had said. "You didn't love him. You're not capable of love," he whispered.

"Ooh, that stings!" she said, her eyes sparkling with silent laughter. "You know, maybe you're too young to know yet, but not everything is so black and white. Just because you and I are different doesn't mean we're not the same in certain ways."

"I had a big brother that I loved and lost --"

"I haven't lost Dean," Sam interjected.

Kelly smirked. "Maybe not yet. But it's inevitable that you will. You know it's true. One way or another you're gonna lose him."

"This is bullshit," Sam muttered.

"No. It isn't. And in a way, haven't you lost him already? All that forbidden love crap? Well, it's not crap. You can never really be together, that's for sure."

"Would you stop!" Sam hissed.

"Striking a nerve?" Kelly asked, studying Sam intently for an answer.

"If you're asking if you're annoying as all hell, then yeah. But if you think you're actually getting to me then save it, 'cause it's not gonna work." Sam knew that he had just baited her but needed to rebel in some way, especially since he couldn't hurt her.

"Fine," she said with a shrug. "I'll go. But you should know that I'm not the only one with a certain darkness. You have that darkness too. And you got it bad. It's just waiting to come out. Give it time."

"What are you talking a--?"

"Oh Sammy. You'll understand when you're older," Kelly whispered. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. He felt her cold lips against his skin. He lunged forward, praying that she didn't just feel real, that he could actually inflict an ounce of damage on her. But he slid right through her and she disappeared just as he hit the floor.

*** Break ***

A few days had passed and the three Winchesters had barely spoken to each other in that time. Sam had kept Kelly's visit to himself, all at once trying to ignore and yet somehow decipher what she had told him.

Dean knocked on his father's bedroom door, opening it by a few inches and watching his John sitting on the bed with his shoulders hunched. "Um, Dad, I've been thinking about going into town and buying a couple cell phones for us. It's convenient and would be good for hunts if we got separated." Dean waited for his father's response, heel tapping quietly against the wood floor.

"Alright. I've been thinking about that myself for a while. We'll head into town later," John said with a nod.

"Yes sir, thank you."

* Break*

Dean's fingers traced over the small buttons as he walked downstairs and took a seat at the cluttered kitchen table. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and grabbed the slip of paper with Tara's number on it. He dialed the number on the clunky cell phone in his hand and waited. Seven rings. He was about to hang up when he heard Tara's voice answer quietly on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Tara. It's Dean. I wasn't sure if you'd be back home yet but I thought I'd give it a try. And you are so… Um, how are you?" he asked, relieved to hear her voice despite how weak and sad it sounded.

"Alright," she said unconvincingly. "Listen, Dean. You shouldn't be calling. I don't know, it's just I can feel Kelly's eyes on me. Maybe I'm cracked but I don't wanna risk it. I miss you and it's good to hear your voice but until this thing is over, please just don't contact me."

Dean bit his lip hard as he listened to Tara. He tried to hide his sigh. "Yeah. Y-You're right. I'm sorry. I just needed to make sure you were still…"

"Alive?" she asked wearily.

"I guess, yeah. Okay, well, I'm gonna go. Don't worry, I'm gonna get Kelly," he told her, trying to convincing as much to her as to himself.

"I know you will Dean." Her voice still sounded so disheartened and yet there was a sincerity there that washed over Dean as though she had been standing there, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

_- A/N: Wow, an early post this Thursday -- 8:11 AM.  
So here's the new chapter. Tell me what you think as always. I appreciate you guys more than I can say. And I'm always open for chatting with ya – AIM: adrianap112233 or MSN: . Well, until next week. :)_

_And once again, I'm seriously annoyed at FF's new formatting. So instead of the usual "* * *" between sections you get it spelled out for you. Sorry about that.  
~aep _


	85. Lost Innocence

**85. Lost Innocence**

Sam sat on his bed, staring at the empty one across from him. He slid onto the floor, the early morning sunlight stinging at his eyes as he pulled his shirt off and dumped it on the rumpled bed. He began doing pushups, counting silently in his head and focusing on his breathing. Still, that voice crept into his head: _"One way or another you're gonna lose him."_ He pushed himself harder, muscles flexing and sweat beading on his skin as he tried to force Kelly's words from his head. _"You have that darkness too…. It's just waiting to come out. Give it time."_

Sam turned swiftly, laying on his back and forcing his abdominal muscles into action as he started a regimen of sit-ups. _"You'll understand when you're older."_ His body was beginning to ache but he wouldn't allow himself to stop moving. He needed to keep himself busy. The anger that he always saw in John and Dean's faces during a hunt had begun to take over him as well. He was ready to fight. He was sick of sitting idly by while his mind was invaded by thoughts of Dean. It was pointless to keep wishing for a normal life. It was never going to happen.

He had spent so much time longing for that normal life but he had finally given up on that dream. It was time to accept reality and stop moaning about it; it was time to grow up; time to be a good son; to get over Dean.

*oOo*

Dean had taken to exploring the house, trying to suppress his feelings and possibly learn more about Kelly along the way. He made his way into the kitchen, the slatted pantry door catching his eye. He went over to it, peeking inside and seeing a slew of canned food on the shelves that had expired years ago, a bag of flour on the second shelf from the bottom that had been torn open and looked like mice were nesting in it. He knelt down to see what was on the floor; a dusty brown sack of ancient potatoes, a few larger cans and another bag of flour. He stood and kicked it aside, frustration surging through him like an electric current though it was quickly replaced by a new sense of curiosity when his foot connected with something besides the flour. He reached down and grabbed a small dusty book with its edges chewed at by mice.

Dean slammed the pantry door shut and sat with his back against it. He opened the book swiftly, not bothering to wipe the dust off the cover. The scrawl on the page looked like that of a young girl, large letters made with extra care.

_I don't know what to write. What to say. Where do I start? Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it doesn't. Usually it doesn't. Either my mind goes blank or everything comes into focus so sharp that it cuts into every part of me. At first I thought he was showing us affection - that's just how you love your child but then it started to feel strange. Uncomfortable. Scary. It hurt. It was humiliating. Shameful._

Dean paused, looking away from the page as his stomach clenched sickeningly. He didn't want to keep reading but that familiar, desperate urge to understand Kelly gripped him and he turned back to the small journal in his hands.

_He poses us, takes pictures. Lops off chunks of our hair as punishment for not obeying him. He always pretends to throw it out but I've seen him pocket it. I wonder where he puts it._

_Lately he doesn't touch us as much. He tells us to touch each other and we know we have to. He watches. His face is empty. I don't see anything there. I don't know if I ever saw anything there._

_I think she loved us. I hope she did. I don't want to blame her for abandoning us but I guess I do. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't bare it. But how did she think we felt?_

_Mom wasn't brave enough to stop him when she found out. She was too sad. Had always been prone to bouts of sadness. She couldn't handle it. Now she's gone and we're left all alone. Alone with him._

_Well, we have each other but it doesn't feel right. Not anymore. Not with what he makes us do to each other._

_Eric holds me after we're forced to do those things. After Dad leaves the room. I thought I wouldn't want him anywhere near me after what Dad makes us do but it actually feels good._

Dean snapped the book shut, unable to continue reading. He stood and put the diary back where he had found it. He knew he would come back to it later, when he could stomach reading more. He ran a hand over his face, sighing as he slowly made his way upstairs, the words he had just been reading weighing like a stone on his gut. He couldn't pin down the way he felt about the diary. To see Kelly's words on the page, written when she was a little girl, losing her innocence. Weak, wounded, open and bare, no hard façade, no furious cruelty.

Dean rested a hand on the cool wood of the bedroom door, pausing before it. He stiffened slightly at the sound of soft grunting on the other side of the door. He turned the knob and peeked through the crack. Sam was pressed against the floor, bare back glistening with beads of sweat as he repeatedly pushed himself up on his palms and lowered himself down again. The door creaked slightly and Dean clenched his jaw. Sam seemed to pause but he didn't look around to the door. Dean closed it and walked back downstairs. He shut his eyes once he reached the last stair, cursing himself for spying on Sam in that moment.

*oOo*

"Hi Johnny boy," Kelly said with a little wave, surveying the old guestroom. John grabbed the shotgun off the desk beside him and aimed it at her. "That's not gonna do much good. This is a dream," she told him. He ignored her, shooting rock salt right through her gut with no result. "Told you," she said.

"Wow, the room's the same as I remember it. You don't really like to settle in, do you?" Kelly asked, her voice light and conversational.

"What do you want?" John growled.

"A lot of things. Don't we all? But if you're asking why I'm taking a stroll through your head at this late hour, it's because I wanna make a deal with you." She took a seat on the rumpled bed and waited for John's response.

John stared at her, letting out a small chuckle. "That's not gonna happen."

"You don't even know what I'm offering yet," she said. John watched her stand and walk slowly towards him. "I want you and your sons to lay off." She put a finger against John's lips before he could make any retort. "It's not that I'm scared that you'll do me in. Because I'm really not. Call me arrogant. In fact the three of you scrambling around for a way to kill me is more of a nuisance really."

John pushed her hand away from his face. "We're not gonna stop 'til we take you down." he grunted.

"Like father, like sons," Kelly muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway. You _are_ going to stop because I'm going to give you something you want."

"What exactly would that be?" John asked.

"Information. You became a hunter to find the thing that killed your precious wife. But years have passed and you still haven't found it. That's gotta be frustrating. I wanna help."

John was surprised at his own silence. Kelly studied him expectantly but he remained quiet.

"Well John? What do you say?"

_-A/N: Sorry this is a few days late. Life's been crazy busy. I'll try to get back to my regular Thursday postings as soon as possible. Anyway, tell me what you think, lovies!  
~aep _


	86. Visitor

**86. Visitor**

"I think I'll pass," John said, a defiant glint in his eye. Kelly nodded slowly, shrugging as she backed away from him.

"Alright. I can respect that. Your loss," she said with a wave as she began to fade away. As panic gripped him John's ribs felt as though they were shrinking and crushing his lungs. He knew better than to make a deal with supernatural scum but he had been chasing after elusive answers for so long that the possibility of a break was tempting.

"Wait!" he called out to her, barely able to see her any longer. He hated himself for saying it, especially as Kelly reappeared with a wide, knowing smile on her face.

"Reconsidering?" she asked patronizingly.

"Shut up and listen," John said, trying to muster some control over the situation. Kelly swiped her thumb and index finger across her lips and turned an imaginary lock in the corner of her mouth, throwing away the key. John glared at her for a moment before continuing. "Tell me what you know and then we'll discuss if there's a deal to be made."

Kelly laughed out loud as she shook her head. "Oh no, sweetie. That's not how it works. Since I've died I've been nothing but honest with you Winchesters but that doesn't mean I'm naïve enough to think you'll do the same. You'll take the information and gut me the first chance you get." John was considering protesting when he thought better of it. It was all too obvious that she was right.

"Besides, the info I have is… time sensitive. I don't know everything yet. I can guide you in the right direction as I learn more but -"

"Guide me?" John scoffed. "You mean you can lead me on."  
"Goodness gracious! So cynical," she said with a baby voice, reaching forward and pinching his cheek. She released him and shook her head. "No John. I'm not hear to lead you on. I'm here to help. Maybe not for the most altruistic of reasons, but let's face it - you can use all the help you can get."

"Alright, let me tell you what I know so far. Which to be honest, isn't all that much. It's a demon. One of the oldest and most powerful. And from what I hear he's got a larger plan. Much larger than toasting your wifey on the ceiling."

"Everything you just said, I could've guessed. So why shouldn't I gank you?" he snarled, ribs still clamping over his lungs.

"Because that's not everything. If _you'd_ shut up and listen you'd realize that." She cleared her throat. "He's deep underground right now, no one can reach him. He's sort of biding his time. Phase one of his plan is complete. He's waiting for it to be time for phase two."

"What's his damn plan?" John asked impatiently.

"Like I said, I don't know that much yet. Take a deep breath. I'm working on it." She paused, her eyes gliding over his face scrutinizingly. "Seriously, take a deep breath Johnny boy." She put a hand on his chest. "Chest pains in a man your age isn't healthy. Though I suppose it's not healthy at any age," she mused. John glared at her, removing her hand from his chest and noting how bizarre and uncomfortable it was that not only had this woman invaded upon his mind and into his dreams but that she could also sense his own physical sensations.

"Well anyway, he's going to be topside again in a couple of years."

"How many? And who exactly is he?" John pressed.

"I wouldn't tell you his name even if I knew it. I need you to need me. That's how this deal works. And let's see, when will he be… Well, Sam'll be twenty-two."

"What does Sam have to do with this?" John asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Kelly grinned widely. "Oh boy. That's a story for another time." She glanced around the bedroom and John followed suit. Light filtered through the windows, brightening the room little by little.

"Well, I think that's my cue. Time to wake up John." She laid a hand gently over his face, obscuring his view.

John's eyes snapped open. Kelly had gone and he was no longer standing across from her, but lying in bed.

* O *

The sun's glow pressed in on Sam's eyelids. He suppressed a moan as he sat up in bed, eyes still closed. He finally opened them as he slunk onto the floor and began doing pushups, his tired eyes focused purposefully on the floor and away from Dean in the other bed.

Dean shifted slightly in bed, not wanting to get up though he was awake. He opened his eyes and his gaze immediately fell to Sam. He turned his head away, sitting up quickly and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. As he stood he stared down at his bare feet pressed firmly against the cool wood. He walked out of the room without a word to Sam.

Sam continued to go through the motions, up and down, trying to ignore his brother leaving the room.

_Is this how it's gonna be now? We're just never gonna talk to each other, look at each other?_ He shook the thought from his head and forced himself to start keeping count of his mundane exercise.

Dean descended the stairs, silently cursing himself for having his thoughts all wrapped up in Sam. _Come on, anything else right now. Please,_ he begged himself. Once again Tara came to mind and he thought bitterly of the last phone call they had shared.

_"You shouldn't be calling…. I can feel Kelly's eyes on me…. Please… don't contact me."_ He forced Tara from his mind as well. It took him a minute to realize that he had walked to the kitchen pantry, his hand already on the doorknob. He threw open the door and reached down for the journal. He hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to know what was in there, in Kelly's young mind, in her past? He gritted his teeth and opened the little book.

* O *

Tara sat on her bed wrapped in a large gray comforter and staring out the window. The phone rang, making her jump. She let it ring until the answering machine picked up. "Um, hey Tare, it's Jack. I'm worried about you, honey. You've been on leave for a while now. The boss is itching to fire you and your kids need you. I need you too. How else am I gonna make it in this place? Please, call me. Please Tara. Well, okay, bye."

Tara sighed. It was the fifth time Jack had called her since she had begun missing work. He was a good friend but she hated to hear him call. His pleading voice made guilt bubble up inside of her. She needed to pull herself together and get back to work - he was right, the kids, her kids, needed her. But she wasn't ready to go back. She wasn't ready to face the world. She wasn't even ready to face going into her kitchen where Diane's blood still stained the tile floor.

She sighed and laid down, closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep, to escape. "Tara. Tara," a soft voice whispered in her ear.

"Diane?" Tara muttered, eyes closed but hands reaching out.

"No. She's dead but you know Diane wouldn't want you to live like this. If you can even call it living."

Tara's eyes snapped open to see Kelly kneeling beside her bed. She shot up and scrambled out of bed and away from the ghost. "Oh, relax. I'm not gonna hurt you," Kelly assured Tara. "Besides, I think I've hurt you enough already, haven't I?" she added thoughtfully. "I just thought it was about time for me to pay you a little visit. I've been checking in on the Winchesters and neglecting you. Well, I mean, I've kept an eye on you but I feel like it's time we had a chat."

"Great. A chat. God, just leave me alone…. Leave the Winchesters alone too," Tara growled softly.

"Nah," Kelly said with a dismissive shrug. "I'm not done with them yet. And I'm not really done with you either." Kelly stood from her kneeling position and made her way over to Tara, backing her up against her bureau. Tara gripped the edges tightly as she looked into Kelly's sparkling eyes.

"I miss my brother. I miss having someone to talk to. And I've heard that you're a good person to talk to so… here goes."

_- A/N: Once again a short-ish chapter but at least it's on time! Questions, comments? Getting to read your feedback makes my day. Well, look out for chapter 87 next week. (Holy crap… 87 chapters. And more to come.) Well, thanks for your continued support and patience. Can hardly believe y'all have been following this story for this long.  
~aep _


	87. Leaving

**87. Leaving**

"Now all of this is confidential, of course," Kelly said with a glint in her eye.

"You're not one of my patients and you're not one of my friends. I'm not listening to anything you have to say." Tara set her jaw defiantly, still staring straight into Kelly's smiling face.

"Sweetie, you know you don't have much choice in the matter," Kelly said, placing a hand on Tara's shoulder. Tara shivered at the feel of it; almost corporeal and icy cold. She jerked the hand off and climbed out of bed and away from Kelly. Silence hung in the air like a physical presence as the women stared into each others' eyes.

"Sit," Kelly finally ordered. Tara felt a weight settle on her, tugging her back to the bed. She tried to resist but couldn't. She clenched her jaw and glared at Kelly. "Anyway," Kelly said, unfazed by the expression of loathing clearly etched on Tara's face. "I've been talking to John -"

"What are you telling him?" Tara interrupted nervously.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not spilling the beans on the boys and their nasty little urges. I've got bigger, better news. I'm feeding him bits of the future." The said the last part in a stage whisper, a playful grin on her face.

"Stop toying with them! People shouldn't know their future. Especially coming from a bitch like you. I remember the twisted visions you put in Dean's head."

"I'm not playing show and tell with John. I'm just talking to him. Feeding him bits of information that he's been dying for. You know, things about how to kill the thing that burned his wifey all up. I gotta admit, it's kind of fun watching him try to work things out when I already know it all."

"You really get your kicks by playing little power games like this? That's pathetic," Tara spat.

"Hey, dead here. It's not exactly like I have better things to do." Kelly replied with a shrug.

"Oh, I don't know. Burning in hell seems like it would be a good pastime for you." Kelly swooped forward until her face was an inch from Tara's.

She laid a cold hand on Tara's chest. Pain shot through Tara's body, seizing her heart and bringing tears to her eyes as she held back a moan. "Careful," Kelly whispered.

* O *

_Sometimes I have this dream. Well, it seems more like a nightmare except I don't feel fear. I feel numb so I don't know what to call it. I'm in a cold, empty room, lying naked on the floor. Faceless men crowd around me. Each one has a snake in his hand. One by one they kneel down, forcing my legs apart and guiding the snake to me. I'm frozen, can't move as it glides toward me, writhes inside of me._

_Then I wake up. And there are no snakes, just my father lying on top of me, pushing into me._

Dean closed the little book, replacing it in the pantry with shaky hands. He got to his feet and leaned over the kitchen sink, eyes shut tight as he took slow, deep breaths. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. He could feel the bile rising in his throat but he forced it down.

Sam descended the stairs to see his brother clutching the edge of the kitchen sink, looking pale and sick. "You okay?" Sam asked, his voice cracking after using it for the first time in a few days.

Dean opened his eyes to look at his brother. He licked his dry lips and nodded. "Yeah." Sam clenched his jaw tightly, hating the flat-out lie his brother had just told him. Forcing his focus away from his brother the past few days had just begun to work but as Sam saw his brother standing weakly against the counter those feelings began to resurface, pricking at his skin like little needles.

Sam wanted desperately to ask what was wrong but knew it was better not to. Dean would just put up his wall and Sam would only become more frustrated. Sam nodded and sighed quietly walking from the room and outside onto the front steps, skin stinging against the cool air.

A somewhat mad thought crossed his mind and within a second he had made his decision. Come nightfall Sam was going to leave, walk into town and hitchhike as far away from his family as he could. He couldn't take it anymore. Everything felt like it was piling up and crushing him. He needed to get away. He remembered how angry he had been when Dean had kept running from him. He realized he was doing the same thing now but he didn't care.

* O *

Sam crept out of bed to the sound of Dean's deep, slow breathing. He tiptoed over to the nightstand, picking up Dean's wallet and pulling out one of the many fraudulent credit cards from within. He pocketed it and reached underneath his bed, grabbing the bag he had packed when Dean wasn't around. Shouldering it, he slipped from the room, careful not to make a noise as he passed his father's bedroom door.

Shining streetlights clustered closer together as he entered town. He ducked into a twenty-four hour gas station and made his way to the ATM in the back. He withdrew up to the five hundred dollar limit, shoving the wad of cash deep in his front pocket and walking through the dusty little aisles of junk food. He piled the food high in his arms, dropping it all on the counter and placing the credit card down beside the items.

He dug around in the plastic bag of convenience store food as he walked, pulling out a bag of funions and opening it. He kept his eyes on the empty road, hoping that a car would pass by soon.

Sam heard the distant growl of an engine and turned, squinting, for the source of the noise. Headlights came into view, illuminating the edge of road where Sam stood. A dark blue pickup truck with a tarp covering the back began to slow. Sam waved at the truck and waited for it to pull over.

"What're you doin' out here in the middle of the night, kid?" A man with a round belly and a scraggly salt-and-pepper beard asked from behind the wheel as he eyed Sam.

"Just trying to get out of town," Sam said, taking a step toward the truck. The driver nodded and leaned over to push open the passenger side door. "Thanks," Sam said as he climbed into the vehicle.

"My name's Daniel. What's yours?" the man asked.

"Sam."

"Where are you lookin' to go, Sam?"

"I don't know. Far away. Somewhere warm."

_- A/N: Another short one. And I'm a little overly creeped out by Kelly's journal entry but, uh, there it is. Tell me what you think! More to come!  
~aep _


	88. Out Of Ohio

**88. Out Of Ohio**

The sun was burning weakly in the cold, gray sky as the truck pulled to a stop and Daniel turned it off. "Well, alright Sam. I'm stoppin' here for business and then I'm going back the way I came." Sam nodded and picked his backpack from off the car floor. "Look, I know you seem awful determined to get away from something or someone but if you're having second thoughts… I'm only gonna be in Middletown for a couple of hours. You can catch a ride back with me if you want."

"Thanks, but I'm gonna keep moving," Sam assured him, opening the car door and getting out.

"Alright," Daniel said with a small shrug. "Be careful, kid."

"I will, sir," Sam said with a nod as he began to walk away.

"Wait!" Daniel called. Sam turned back and watched as the pudgy man exited the truck and made his way toward him. Daniel reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, rifling through it until he pulled out a fistful of cash.

"Uh, what are y-"

"Take it." He pushed the bills into Sam's hands. "Get yourself a bus or a taxi or somethin'. No more hitchin' - it's not safe."

"Why would you do this for me?" Sam asked, trying to hide the shock and suspicion from his voice.

Daniel shrugged. "I'm a foster parent. I guess it's in my blood."

"Well, um, thanks."

Sam shoved the cash deep into his pocket and walked into the city, his hands holding tightly to the backpack straps on his shoulders. He walked passed a Dunkin' Donuts but paused in front of a storefront travel agency. He only knew that he was going, he didn't know where. He pushed open the glass door, a little bell above the doorframe tinkling at his entrance.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked, poking her head out from behind a computer at the front desk.

"Uh, I don't know," Sam muttered, looking around at the colorful maps that adorned the travel agency's walls.

"Well, why don't you take a seat and we'll see if we can figure something out for you. I'm Louise," she said with a wide smile. Sam couldn't help but note how white her teeth were, especially against her dark curls. It was a little unnerving to him for some reason but he took a seat. "Are you planning on staying in the states?" she asked. Sam nodded. "How would you like to travel?"

"Bus."

* O *

John lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and yearning for more information, no matter how cruel and conniving the source. "Son of a bitch. What's going to happen when Sam's twenty-two? What does he have to do with all this?" he whispered, willing Kelly to hear him.

"Sam!" John heard Dean call from downstairs. "_Sam!_" John pulled himself out of bed and followed the sound of his son's frantic voice.

"What the hell's going on?" John asked as he entered the downstairs hallway. Dean spun around to see his father at the opposite end of the hall and was speechless for a moment.

"I-I can't find Sam and one of my credit cards is gone."

"_What?_" John whispered menacingly. "Dean, how could you let this happen? He stole from you, walked right out of the room you two were sharing - how do you lose a kid like that, Dean? You're supposed to be watching out for him!" John's face was red now as he stared at his eldest son in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was asleep. He must have crept out," Dean muttered.

"I don't want excuses. You're going to find him."

* O *

The Peter Pan bus cruised down the highway on Route 40. Sam shut his eyes against the noise of the other passengers and the air conditioning system behind him at the back of the bus. The destination was Sante Fe, New Mexico with a stop in Oklahoma City.

"It is twelve-oh-three pm so good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, we've entered Arkansas and in about an hour and a half or so we will be making a short pit stop in Little Rock," the driver spoke into his microphone with a cheery voice. Sam was antsy so the idea of being able to stretch his legs wasn't an unwelcome one but at the same time he just wanted to keep going - far and fast.

It was dark by the time the bus had pulled into the Oklahoma City station. Sam checked himself into a nearby motel and set the alarm for a good two hours before he had to be back at the bus station tomorrow morning.

He sat down on the creaky twin bed in the middle of the room and felt the little plastic credit card in his pocket. He knew John and Dean would track him if he used the card but he also knew that it was better to use it one last time in Oklahoma than anywhere near Santa Fe. He walked back into the little motel office he had just exited a few moments ago and went for the ATM machine that was off to one side.

He knew that running away was only a temporary fix, knew that he couldn't stay away forever. The money would run out and given a little time his family would probably find him. But even though Sam had common sense he hoped he wasn't being too naïve in leaving in the first place. _Even if it's just a little time away from them… Away from everything… I need this,_ he thought to himself as he withdrew the money and then the card from the ATM.

As he made the short walk back to the motel room, Sam found his mind wandering to what Dean was doing. _Probably looking for me._ He shook his head and shoved his key in the door, turning it and hearing the satisfying click as it unlocked. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed on the bed.

Daniel had given him more than enough money for the bus fare but when Sam got off at Sante Fe he wasn't going to stay in town and he wasn't going to use more public transportation. Getting the bus ticket was traceable but it had also been fast and convenient. Still Sam had made up his mind; it was back to hitchhiking until he crossed over into the next state where he would settle down. He pulled a map he had bought from the travel agency out of his backpack and studied it for a moment. He traced the tiny lines that signified highway routes with his index finger. "South on twenty-five and then west on forty… Flagstaff, Arizona."

_- A/N: A fairly Sammy-centric chapter but then again, I do have a lot of Dean chapters. 'Flagstaff' should ring a bell to anyone who's recently watched the season 5 episode "Dark Side of the Moon." ;) Gosh, I love when the show references the boys' past in ways I can use. :D Anyway, enough of my little geeker moment. Tell me what you think!_

_~aep_


	89. Can't Find My Way Home

**89. Can't Find My Way Home**

The Impala curved its way down the dirt road that led into town. "Jesus, Dean, come on!" John growled from the driver's seat, swiping a hand over the nape of his neck in frustration. "I thought you knew the routine by now. It's simple. Watch out for Sammy. Protect him from anything that's out there. Protect him from doing something stupid."

Dean could feel John casting a glare his way. "I know. I'm sorry," Dean said, his eyes set firmly on the car floor and away from his father's.

"We don't know what kind of trouble he could be in for Christ's s-"

"He could be fine," Dean muttered hopefully.

"We're not going to operate under that assumption. You have to assume the worst if you want to get things done, otherwise you get lazy. You tempt fate." The car shook as it passed over a pothole.

"Yes, sir."

* O *

Sam was the first one on the bus in the morning, once again taking a seat in the back despite the inevitable noise of the air conditioning unit there. His eyes stared blankly out the large, smudged window as the bus drove out of Oklahoma and into Texas. Over six hours later the bus arrived in Santa Fe. The sky had turned a glorious orange hue as Sam exited the bus, clutching tightly to the bag on his shoulder. The orange began to darken as he made his way into town on foot, fading to red and then to a dusky purple.

He waved down a silver minivan that pulled onto the shoulder of the road. The tinted passenger seat window rolled down to reveal two college-age girls. "Hi!" the girl closest to him called cheerily over the sound of the radio.

Sam gave a forced smile. "Where are you headed?" he asked.

The driver lowered the volume. "We're road-tripping. Next stop: Albuquerque," she said with a grin.

"Cool. Can I catch a ride with you?" Sam asked. Both girls nodded and gestured for him to take a seat in back.

After all the talking and giggling and singing along to insipid pop songs on the radio that he had to endure over the car ride, Sam was glad to see the large _Welcome to Albuquerque_ sign. "You can drop me here," he told the girls hastily. The car pulled over and stopped. "Thanks for the ride."

Dozens of cars flew past as Sam walked slowly on the side of the road, arm outstretched with his thumb pointing down the street. Finally a middle-aged man in a little black two-door sports car came to a stop before him. "Where are you going?" the man called.

Sam took a step towards the car. "Trying to get to Arizona."

"Perfect. Get in. I'm on my way to Holbrook on business."

"Thanks," Sam said, pulling open the car door and getting in. The radio was playing softly as he took his seat. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Neil," the man said, giving Sam's hand a firm shake and putting the car back in drive. He raised the volume of the mellow song and now Sam could make out the lyrics.

"Come down on your own  
And leave your money at home  
Somebody must change  
You are the reason I've been waiting all these years -"

"Can't Find My Way Home by Blind Faith. I love this song," Neil said, humming quietly and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He began to sing along.

"Well, I'm near the end and I just can't find the time  
Oh, I'm wasted and I can't find my way home  
But I can't find my way home  
But I can't find my way home…"

His voice was smooth and soothing, wrapping Sam in warmth and putting him at ease. It's not that the girls he had been riding with had bad voices, on the contrary, they actually had rather nice voices but they spent the car ride belting out the lyrics until Sam only longed for some quiet. This was different. This was comforting. It reminded him of 'home' but only in the best way - riding in the Impala as rock songs played, making John and Dean sway. He turned his mind away from them and tried to focus only on the music.

"But I can't find my way home  
Still, I can't find my way home  
And I ain't done nothing wrong  
But I can't find my way home."

The song ended and Neil cocked his head to take a quick look at Sam. "Mind my askin' what someone as young as you is doin' on your own?"

"Yeah, I always get that question. I kinda hate it. Not the question itself but that it always gets asked. I actually turned eighteen a couple months back but as my mom constantly reminds me - I still got that baby face." The blatant lie came out smoothly enough that even though he hardly looked eighteen it seemed to work. He had used the same line at the travel agency when asked about his age. He had a fake ID nestled in his wallet beside Dean's credit card to back it up as well. The next hour passed with little conversation. Sam's eyelids began to slip shut, lulled by Neil's voice as he quietly sang along to the radio.

He didn't wake until he felt the car come to a stop, the radio cutting out and the ignition turning off. He opened his eyes blearily but was able to take in very little in the blackness of the night. "Are we in Holbrook already?"

Neil shook his head, his eyes studying Sam intently in the darkness. Sam's stomach clenched uncomfortably at the way Neil's eyes were taking him in so hungrily. Neil licked his lips and swiped a hand over his chin. "You can't be older than fifteen years old. And here you are, all alone…" He leaned in, hand reaching out for Sam's face. Sam slapped it away and grabbed the door handle only to find he couldn't open it.

"Seriously?" Sam asked. "Come on, this is such a cliché!" For a split second he couldn't help but notice how much he had just sounded like his big brother but then Neil was moving closer and adrenaline began to pump inside of him. He unzipped his bag quickly and jammed his hand in it. He twisted his body around so he could throw a kick hard in Neil's chest, stopping him in his tracks. Neil was forced back, eyes wide at Sam's strength. The hand that had been searching in the bag found what it was looking for and Sam yanked out a knife, lunging forward and pressing it hard against the man's neck. He swung his leg over Neil's lap, placing all his weight on him to hold him down.

"You're not gonna touch me, you sick son of a bitch," he growled out, once again sounding like his brother. "Here's what you _are_ gonna do." He tightened his grip on the knife. "You're gonna unlock the doors and let me out. Then you're going to drive far away from me. You got that?"

"Y-Yes," Neil whispered. His adam's apple moved ever so slightly at his speech, making the knife nick his throat. He winced but reached his hand to the automatic locking system in his door. Sam heard the click that told him he was free but he didn't move. They stared into each other's eyes. Neil's were no longer filled with a lustful hunger but with shock and fear. Sam could feel his own eyes burning into the man's face. All the angst he had been feeling over his brother seemed to transform into pure fury as he held the blade against Neil's throat. He was frightening himself, it was all he could do to hold back and not press the knife deep into the man's flesh. He took a deep breath and pulled the knife away forcefully as though a magnetic field made the extra force necessary. He pointed it at Neil's face as he swung his leg back over and off of him and made his way back to his own seat. He grabbed up his bag while still holding the knife defensively and yanked open the car door and slammed it behind him.

He watched as Neil scrambled to turn the ignition on. The headlights turned on as the car roared into life, cutting a bright path across the tiny black road. The car sped off until nothing was left but pinpricks of light in the distance.

_-A/N: Looks like Sammy has a bit of a dark side but at least he can take care of himself. Anyway… Fun fact for the day: In Spanish the term soul mate is alma gemele which literally translated means soul twin. Considering this is an incestuous fanfic and the fact that it has been explicitly stated on the show that Sam and Dean are soul mates, I thought this was a fun tidbit. Sorry, kind of random but there you have it.  
So, as always - please, please, please tell me what you think of the latest chapter and keep an eye out for more. :)  
~aep _


	90. Not Forgetting

**90. Not Forgetting**

The furious adrenaline was still coursing through him even after the car had long since faded from sight. As the blood pumping in his ears began to quiet he realized that he had no idea where he was. _Dammit! How could I be so stupid? How could I let my guard down like that and fall asleep?_ He peered around in the darkness. Nothing but uneven ground covered in sand and the small road the car had driven on. He couldn't hazard a guess as to when another car would drive by, let alone one that would pick him up. He needed to get moving but there were no signs to give him an inkling as to which way to find society. Sam took a deep breath and walked in the same direction that Neil's car had torn off.

* O *

John walked from the UPS store with a faxed paper in his hand. He thrust it at Dean who was leaning against the hood of the Impala. The credit card company had sent a record of the latest purchases made on Dean's stolen credit card. His finger went down the very short list. An ATM at the local gas station and another last night at a motel in Oklahoma City.

"No way he's still in Oklahoma. He wouldn't have used the card if he was going to stick around there."

John nodded in agreement. "You're right. But now we have a place to start. Well, you have a place to start."

"What do you mean, sir?" Dean asked, slightly confused.

"You lost him on your watch, Dean. He was your responsibility. You're gonna get him back. I've got work to do here. You'll keep me posted. We have cell phones now so it shouldn't be too hard," John said matter-of-factly. "Now drop me at the Wrights' house and get the hell out of here." He handed Dean the keys and made his way around to the passenger's side.

John stared out the window, thinking about the "work" he had mentioned needed to be done. There was no work. There was just the need to talk to Kelly and pump her for information. And a private talk with her would be difficult if he were on a road trip with Dean, trying to find his youngest son.

Dean parked the Impala by the house and John exited the car without a word or even a glance back at his son. Dean watched as his father entered the abandoned house then put the car in drive and sped away down the dirt road and towards the highway.

* O *

Sam checked his watch. Over three hours of walking and still no signs of civilization, or anything for that matter. Just sand and the winding road. He suddenly spun around, ears straining to hear. And sure enough, two small orbs of light came into view, driving towards him. He ran out into the middle of the street, waving his arms and shouting at the little green VW bug. It came to a halt a few feet in front of him. Sam walked over to the driver's side.

"How'd you land out here in the middle of nowhere?" a man with olive skin and light brown hair who looked a few years older than Dean asked from the driver's seat.

"I'm hitching to Flagstaff and I hadn't had any trouble until the last guy…"

"_Oh_," the man said. "Poor thing. Get in." Sam obliged, walking around the car and taking a seat.

"Where are we?" Sam asked as he drummed his fingers on his thighs quietly.

"Painted Desert. We're about thirty miles outside of Holbrook. I'm John, by the way."

"That's my dad's name. I'm Sam. My last ride was headed to Holbrook."

"Well, Sam son of other John, I'm headed there too," he said with a playful smile. The grin faltered slightly as he continued. "My boyfriend's family lives there and I'm going to meet them for the first time today. Suffice it to say, I'm a little nervous and/or terrified."

"Boyfriend?" Sam muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm gay. What, you couldn't tell by the car?" he said with a chuckle. "It doesn't bother you, does it?" His tone was friendly but Sam could hear the hint of threatening defiance in the last part.

"No. Me too." It was the first time he had told someone besides Dean what he was. Even back at the high school's gay-straight alliance in Massachusetts he had mentioned his feelings for a certain boy but had never gone so far as to say that he was actually gay. Sam was still utterly on guard after Neil but he felt himself start to relax a little. He felt comfortable speaking to John, something that struck him as rather funny considering the John that was his own flesh and blood always seemed so unapproachable.

* O *

"Stop it!" Tara screamed, jumping up from the couch, eyes fixed on the form that had just appeared in her living room. Kelly just raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. She had been visiting Tara regularly in order to antagonize her further. "Just leave me alone already."

"What's the fun in that?" Kelly asked with mock confusion, tilting her head to one side.

"You just keep showing up and using me as a therapist while directing a never-ending onslaught of jabs at me."

"Ooh, big words," Kelly said patronizingly. Tara plopped back down on the couch in defeat, crossing her own arms over he chest.

"You know, you're really good at annoying the hell out of people but as of late, it seems that that's all that you're good for. I'm starting to think you're all bark and no bite."

"Do I need to remind you what I did to your girlfriend?" Kelly asked, eyes narrowing as she stared Tara down.

Tara kept her face blank as she replied. "No, I think the bloodstains on the kitchen floor will suffice."

"I hope so because you seem awfully quick to forget," Kelly whispered, moving forward and taking a seat on the coffee table across from Tara.

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten," Tara whispered through gritted teeth. She fought back tears, her eyes watering for a second before she gained control of herself. She watched as Kelly looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Poor Johnny boy is all by his lonesome just waiting for me to shed some light on his future. I think I'll go pay him a visit."

And as suddenly as Kelly had appeared, she vanished from sight, leaving Tara staring at thin air.

* * *

_- A/N: For the record, my summer's about to get hella crazy. (Yes, I said 'hella'.) I have two intensive summer camps (so intensive they actually have intensive in the name, lol) to attend starting Monday and in the break between them I'm visiting friends in Martha's Vineyard. For those of you who have been following this story from the beginning you might remember me mentioning the singing camps I attended last year. Well it's that time again and it's less camp and more five weeks of conservatory._

_So if the updates get sporadic I'm terribly sorry. I'll do my best to post regularly._

_Okay POLL: If things really do get too hectic what would you prefer? Bide your time until a 3-4 page chapter is churned out or get mini-chapters fed to you a little more regularly?  
I'm not sure if I'd actually want to do that seeing as I don't want to get stuck in the habit of writing short chapters especially when they're already so short. *shrug* Let me know._

_Love y'all! And as always, tell me what you think. Your reviews and comments make my day._

_And sorry for the extra long author's note.  
~aep_


	91. Vacation

**91. Vacation**

"Hey Johnny! How've you been?" Kelly asked amiably, suddenly standing in the entrance hall of her childhood home.

John made no reply, listening as Dean drove the Impala away from the house. When the sound of the engine faded completely John caught Kelly's eye. He discarded his coat, tossing it on the coat rack, before walking towards the ghost. A small smile crawled across her face and she held up a finger, silencing John before he even spoke.

"So, you have two options today. Do you want some more information about the demon or," she paused for dramatic effect, "would you like to know where your little boy went?" John's eyebrows knitted together and he took a slow breath. "Come on, John. It's a little sad that you even have to consider this. Don't you want to get your boy back? He could be in danger. Hitchhiking across this great country of ours isn't exactly the safest of pastimes."

John knew better than to demand information on both fronts. He had to pick his battles. "Dean's after him," he said coldly, a note of finality ringing in his voice. Kelly raised her eyebrows disbelievingly.

"Really, John?"

"Don't tell me how to parent," he whispered.

"Someone should. I know there was a time when you would've been appalled by a man who would raise his children the way you've raised yours."

John clenched his fists tightly at his sides and gritted his teeth. "Just tell me what you know." Kelly pursed her lips and sucked on her teeth, thoughtfully staring off into space. John knew she was waiting for him to spell it out - to choose information on the demon over the whereabouts and safety of his own fourteen-year-old son. "Dammit," he whispered under his breath. "Tell me about the demon."

Kelly smiled, her expression oozing satisfaction. "Like I said, there's no way to reach him now. But when he comes back, he's coming back with a bang. He's gonna hurt Sammy, or rather hurt someone he cares about."

"What's he gonna do? And what is it about Sam that's -"

"Sammy's a special child and… well, he's gonna grow up to be a very special man."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? And what's the demon planning on doing to Sam?"

"What hasn't he done already?" John stared at Kelly, waiting for her to elaborate. "Think about it - what was a demon doing in a baby's nursery? Do you think Mary would have died if she had just left well enough alone?"

"What are you saying?" John asked, stomach clenching sickeningly as though a snake had wound itself around his middle and was squeezing him.

"You know what? Maybe Sam should just stay lost. Your life, and Dean's life for that matter, would be a lot simpler without him. Trust me." Kelly sighed, eyes narrowing on John as she studied him. "But you won't let him go. You're gonna trap him in your little dysfunctional family which is only gonna push him further away. He's gonna run from you and the life you've forced on him. He's going to go out to face the world on his own and he'll try to forget you… and Dean. He'll fall in love… _with a girl this time_," she added the last part as an afterthought.

Kelly smirked. "And then history's just going to repeat itself: another sweet blond burning on the ceiling above his pretty little head… courtesy of the demon that's evaded you all these years."

Silence hung in the air thick and heavy while John tried to digest all that Kelly had said. He could feel her probing eyes on him and he stared right back. The corners of her mouth turned up in yet another smug smile. "Well, I think I've given you enough to think about for now. See you later," Kelly gave a little wave and vanished from sight.

* O *

Sam sighed and took a seat on the motel bed. He had finally made it to Flagstaff. He yanked his bag into his lap and upended it over the bedspread. He made a small pile of miscellaneous textbooks and notebooks he had all but forgotten about on his bedside table. He gathered his clothes into his arms and put them in the nearby dresser then returned to the bed and organized the rest of his belongings. It was the first time in years that Sam had actually unpacked his entire bag, the first time he knew he wouldn't be uprooted for another one of John's hunts.

A number of postcards held together by a rubber band had fallen to the floor when he'd dumped out his bag. Sam leaned forward to pick it up, discarding the rubber band and flipping through the thick collection of postcards. An array of pictures, a different one for each city with the date of when he had visited written on the back. Sam had started this collection back when he was eight years old and had kept it up until he had turned twelve when he'd finally gotten sick of keeping track of every place he was being shuttled to by his father. Sam kept flipping through the cards, laying them all out on the bed until there was no more room. He stared blankly at the splashes of colors, buildings, monuments, scenery, words.

_"Dude, this postcard-collecting thing is getting ridiculous," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed the pile of postcards in Sam's hands. "It's way too geeky. Like worse-than-stamp-collectors geeky. Besides, you're making it look like we're three goofy tourists on vacation."_

_"Maybe I'd prefer to think we were on some sort of vacation," Sam replied, adding the newest postcard to the collection and replacing the rubber band around the thick stack._

_"But we're not. The only reason we go to all these places is because there are things to hunt."_

_"I know," Sam muttered with a shrug, placing the cards safely in the bottom of his backpack. He ignored Dean's scoff._

_"Sammy, you're like the weirdest ten-year-old I know."_

_Sam straightened up to look at his big brother. "Dean, I'm the only ten-year-old you know."_

Sam tried to ignore the little smile that he could feel playing on his lips. He made to gather up the cards and pack them away but he stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed his room key and walked out the door.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the nearby strip mall. Sam ducked into Home Depot and grabbed a roll of duct tape, paying for it and quickly making his way back to his motel room. Before long an entire wall was plastered with postcards. He studied his handiwork for a moment, noticing a common theme of Route 66 and the open road.

* O *

Dean stared at the road as it unfolded ahead of him. The highway was fairly empty at this time. "Springfield, Missouri," Dean muttered to himself as he read the sign overhead that indicated Springfield was the next exit. "Okay, so only like another… seventy-five miles 'til I hit Oklahoma. Oh, and talking to yourself, that's really healthy, Dean." He shook his head and turned the radio on. AC/DC blared through the speakers and he nodded his head in time to the music.

It was pitch black by the time Dean reached the Panhandle Motel. He parked the car outside of the office and made his way inside. "Hey, did you see this kid come in here three nights ago?" he asked the woman at the desk, brandishing an old beat-up photograph of Sam.

She took the photo from him and studied it for a second. "He was a little older, but yeah. He checked in here a few days ago," she said, handing it back to Dean.

"Do you have any idea where he was going?" Dean asked.

The woman shrugged. "He had that runaway look. You see it every now and then especially with that Peter Pan bus station a few blocks over."

"Peter Pan bus?" Dean asked. She nodded. "What time did he check out?" The woman flipped through the guestbook, finger traveling up the roster.

"I remember it was early. Here we go - seven on the dot," she said as her finger landed on a signature from two days ago.

"Great. Thanks." He made to leave but turned back, "Oh, and which way is the bus station?"

The Impala sped out of the little motel parking lot.

_- A/N: Anyone else think John is a major douche for not taking the opportunity to find out where his son is? Especially when the alternative is just cryptic information that's just gonna drive him crazy and not give him any real answers. Stupid. .  
Also, anyone else remember The Song Remains the Same (season 5)? "There was a time when you would've been appalled by a man who would raise his children the way you've raised yours" - Young John's disgust at the kind of person he would unknowingly become and Sam forgiving him… OMG. Make me cry like a baby, why don't you!_

_Anyway…  
Looks like a unanimous decision: longer chapters are worth the wait. So I think that's how I'll be doing it. It makes things easier on me too, so yay! Thanks guys. And once again, thanks so much for being such loyal readers/reviewers. You are the virtual sunshine of my life. :)  
Tell me what you think about the latest chapter, if you please!  
~aep _


	92. Hunt

**92. Hunt**

"Hey Dad. I'm in Oklahoma City. It looks like Sammy might've taken the bus somewhere. I just talked to someone at the local Peter Pan bus station and a bus to Santa Fe left just a little while after he checked out of a motel a couple blocks away. So I guess I'm headed to New Mexico. Check with the credit card company to see if he's used the card again. I doubt it, but you know, just in case. Alright, well, uh, call me back." Dean ended the call and tossed the clunky cell phone onto the passenger's seat before starting up the car outside of the bus station.

The Impala cruised onto the highway and before the day was out had arrived in Santa Fe. "Okay. Now what?" he asked the silent car, parking it in an abandoned lot just off of the highway and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He grabbed the phone off the seat next to him and checked his voicemail. "You have ONE new message," an electronic voice chirped at him. Silence for a moment before John's gravelly voice came on the line.

"I checked and he hasn't used the card since Oklahoma. If he did take that bus to Santa Fe he's not gonna stick around there. And he won't be taking anymore public transportation, he knows it's too easy to trace. He's probably heading out further west. Don't know where though."

* O *

Sam shot up in bed, ears alert at the sound of scratching against the door, audible even above the patter of rain. Sam stood up, moving silently across the dark room until he reached the door. He pressed his palms against the warm wood and leaned forward to look through the peephole. Nothing but rain hitting hot pavement. He was about to back away from the door when he heard the scratching again. He secured the chain lock and opened the door an inch.

A flash of muted gold caught his eye. He looked down to see a soaking dog, its eyes looking up at him pleadingly. Sam and the dog stood there, still as statues on opposite ends of the door. He finally unlocked the door, holding it open just wide enough for the golden retriever to enter.

Sam knelt down hesitantly, reaching a hand out for the creature who stepped forward and nuzzled its head against Sam's palm. "Who do you belong to?" Sam asked quietly. His fingers traveled down to the dog's neck in search of a collar but none was there. He tilted his head to look at its underbelly. "Okay, definitely not a boy," he muttered. The dog barked loudly, as if offended. "Shh!" Sam pressed a finger to his lips. "Sh."

"Look, I'm sorry I don't have any food for you." The dog looked up into his eyes and Sam couldn't help but feel compassion for the fellow runaway. "There was a Petco at that strip mall and when it opens tomorrow morning I'll get some stuff for you. Does that sound good?" The retriever moved forward and licked Sam's face. Sam chuckled slightly. "I'll take that as a yes."

* O *

John's head was still spinning though Kelly had long since gone. There were too many things to try to decipher.

Who was the demon going to hurt? What had the demon done to Sam? What was it going to do? What made Sam so special? Had Mary really died in vain? How could John keep his son from running away? And perhaps Kelly's least consequential comment but one that had stuck in John's mind nonetheless: _"He'll fall in love… with a girl this time."_

John growled and ran his hands through his short hair in frustration as he mounted the stairs and entered his bedroom. _Come on, you bitch. I need to know more._ John sighed and took a seat at the desk in the bedroom. He flipped through a newspaper from a few days ago, skimming over the articles and hoping for one that could hold his attention.

_ANOTHER ROGUE'S HOLLOW DISAPPEARANCE  
By Rebecca Jordan_

_The disappearance of a young woman Margot Pace, 26, was reported last night. It's the third missing persons case in Doylestown, Ohio. The third case this month actually. Her car was discovered at the bottom of Hametown Rd. just off of the Silver Creek bridge in the heart of Rogue's Hollow. The cars of the last two missing women were found in the same place._

John groaned quietly as he closed the newspaper, not bothering to read the rest of the article. The last thing he wanted to do was split his attention away from Kelly but he knew that if he didn't, the waiting would drive him insane. He fished his cell phone from the canvas bag at the foot of the desk and pulled out his journal as well, flipping through until he found the number he was looking for.

"Hey, Caleb. It's John…. Yeah, it has been a while. Listen, I've got this hunch and I was wondering what you could tell me about Doylestown, particularly Rogue's Hollow and the creek that runs through it.. I'm in Ohio right now and I remember you mentioning the town to me a while back." He waited on the line while Caleb went to retrieve his own hunter's journal.

Caleb came back on the line and John could hear the flipping of pages as he searched for the correct entry. "Silver Creek - Doylestown, Ohio. There's not much here. Just that the Rogue's Hollow creek might be home to a Crybaby Bridge."

"A crybaby bridge?" John closed his eyes for a moment, recalling what little lore he knew on the subject: haunted bridges, plagued by the cries of children long since drowned in the water beneath. "Those things aren't dangerous, just eerie."

"Yeah, well judging by the fact that you just called me out of the blue I'm guessing you think there could be a little bit more to this thing," Caleb said knowingly.

"Yeah. Thanks Caleb. I'm gonna go do some research. I'll let you know if anything comes of it." He hung up the phone, skimmed through the rest of the newspaper article, donned his jacket and walked into town, heading straight to the car rental agency he had noticed when Dean had been driving.

* O *

Sam awoke to the sound of whimpering and opened his eyes to see puppy dog ones staring back at him from beside his bed. "Alright, let's go get you some food." The dog spun around and yipped, wagging her tail excitedly.

The dog bounded in as the automatic doors parted for them to enter the pet store, sniffing high in the air for a moment before lunging down the aisle stocked with dog supplies. A teenage girl with bleached streaks in her hair and braces on her teeth stopped Sam. "You can't have your dog in here without a leash."

"Oh, um, I had a leash and it broke so I'm here to buy a new one," Sam said quickly.

The girl tugged at the bottom of her red vest uniform. "Get one quick and put it on your dog." Sam nodded, grabbing a blue collar and matching leash off of a nearby rack and following after the golden retriever.

"Hey girl," he said with a soothing voice, leaning down beside the dog. She turned her head to Sam and looked into his face with big brown eyes. She allowed him to put the collar around her neck and clip the leash to it. The second Sam had stood she pulled him down the aisle, stopping before a bin full of dog bones. She studied them intently for a moment before looking back up at him.

Sam left the store ten minutes later with fifty dollars worth of pet supplies, the dog walking beside him at a happy trot, fervently chewing a bone in her mouth. "Bones," Sam muttered. The dog paused to look up at him. "What? You need a name and that seems like a fitting one." She gave a muffled bark through her gnawing and they continued the short walk back to the motel room, Sam being careful to keep the dog unseen by other guests or the management.

He unlocked the door and Bones bounded in, jumping on the bed and turning around a few times before settling down and sprawling out, still chewing on her bone. Sam prepared a bowl of water and food that he set by the kitchenette and guided her to it. She eyed the food for a moment then reluctantly released the bone from her mouth to eat. Sam smiled and found himself wondering if he would have ever gotten a dog if John had chosen to stay settled down after Mary's death or, better yet, if Mary had never died. He shook the "if only" thoughts from his head, patting Bones on the back before going over to the bed and lying down where the dog had been a minute ago. He propped himself up on the slightly stiff motel pillows and stared at the sea of postcards hanging on his wall. He tried to appreciate them for what they were: piece of paper with pictures printed on them, but with each one he studied, a memory came to him. He turned away from the wall and grabbed the first book he could reach on his nightstand. _The Crucible._

September, the tension had been growing thicker an thicker between them. Sam remembered explaining what his book was about to Dean in an agitated voice. And then the argument that followed shortly after, before they had admitted their feelings for each other.

_"Sammy, why are you mad at me? And don't try to say you're not because I may not be a friggin' nerd like you, but I'm not stupid."_

_"Don't call me Sammy, I'm not five years old!"_

_"I'm eighteen. You, on the other hand, are only fourteen. You're just a fuckin' kid!"_

Sam was still just a kid and Dean was one year older. Sam tried to convince himself that none of that mattered, not now that he had chosen to run away from Dean and John. Age, love, lust, family. Nothing mattered now.

_- A/N: It's been waaaay too long. At least, that's how it feels to me. I just got back from Martha's Vineyard late last night and now the next music program is starting up on Monday so updates will continue to be sporadic for a while. :( Thanks for sticking around.  
Tell me what you think! You reviews/comments make my day, hell, my week! :) Love y'all!  
~aep _


	93. Live A Little

**93. Live A Little**

It hadn't taken long to cull through the Doylestown newspaper archives and find dozens of disappearances spanning the creek over the past thirty or so years: all females, all in their late twenties. John parked the rental car at the mouth of the bridge. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. It clapped through the relative silence of the night like a shot ringing out. A sudden gust of wind whistled past John who followed it onto the old bridge.

"Okay, if this is the bridge, where's the crybaby?" he muttered, peering into the darkness and straining to hear anything besides the wind. He glanced over the side of the bridge to the frozen water below. "Come on, I know something's here," he whispered.

He walked the length of the small bridge, pulling an electro-magnetic frequency meter from his pocket and turning it on. A tiny buzz began in the meter, growing louder as he moved to the left side of the bridge. He held the EMF over the edge, the buzzing becoming louder still. He shut it off and shoved the little contraption back in his pocket, staring into the half-frozen creek.

John walked off the bridge and onto a small winding path that looked like it hadn't been used for years. It led him directly underneath the bridge at the edge of the water. He pulled the EMF out once more, flicking it on and listening as the buzz became louder than ever before. "It's not even about the bridge, is it? It's about the water."

* O *

"Hey Dad," Dean began to speak after the beep of the answering machine. "It's been a week and I feel like I'm chasing my tail here. I'm still in New Mexico. I don't know where to look. Thinkin' about heading out to Arizona. But Sammy could be anywhere. I just really wish I wasn't flying blind here." Dean rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck and sighed. "Well, um, if you think of anything, give me a call." He hung up the phone and stashed it in the glove compartment before exiting the car and looking around at the deserted street he had parked on.

He glanced up at the crescent moon and clenched his jaw. Before he could stop himself, a yell had burst from his throat. "Fuck you, Sam! FUCK YOU!" He clenched his fists at his sides, mustering up all the self-control he had not to lash out and punch or kick something, anything. "Dammit," he muttered. He swiped a hand over his face and followed the street until he had reached a little roadside pub. He paused at the door. "Right, 'cause drinking your problems away has worked so well in the past…" he murmured sarcastically to himself. He hesitated for another moment. "Screw it." He pulled open the door and stepped inside the dimly lit place.

He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, scanning the dark room as the bartender handed him a bottle. A few older men drinking themselves into oblivion and three young women giggling around a table as they sipped martinis. Dean took a swig of his beer and studied the women for a moment. One of them looked up and towards Dean and their eyes connected. Her skin was tan and her hair was dark and when she smiled at Dean, he was reminded a little of Tara. He gave her a little half-smile in return. She turned back to her friends, huddling in close and whispering to them. He was on his second beer when she drained her the rest of her martini and came over to him. She smiled again and took a seat beside him.

"Hey. Can I buy you a drink?" Dean asked her.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll have a beer this time around." Dean waved the bartender over. "I'm Rhonda, Rhonda Hurley," she said as she took a sip of the beer that had just been placed before her.

"Nice to meet you, Rhonda. I'm Dean. Your friends don't mind that you're over here with me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. They think you're kinda cute and -"

"Just 'kinda'?"

Rhonda laughed and nodded. "Maybe a little more than 'kinda'. They actually sort of encouraged me to come over here."

"They sound like some good friends," Dean said, a flirtatious smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He had forgotten how fun and easy it was to do this - talk to a girl and watch her melt. It was just the distraction he needed, if only a temporary one.

After a few more drinks, Dean posed the question. "Do you wanna get out of here?" Rhonda glanced back at her friends. She held up a finger to Dean and made her way back over to the table with the two women. She whispered something to them and after they replied she came back, nodding and smiling.

"I don't think we should be drivin' right now. Let's, let's go to my place. It's nearby," Rhonda suggested, her words slurring slightly.

* O *

John heard the hum of a car from above, he froze where he was at the edge of the water, pressing himself against the nearest stone arch that held the rickety bridge up. The ignition cut out and a car door opened and closed, faint footsteps could be heard walking the length of the bridge. A strong gust of wind set his teeth chattering and he clenched his jaw to keep from making sound. He watched as a figure approached the side of the bridge, a woman looking out over the edge. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a mini-cassette recorder, clicking it on and muttering into it. Her voice faded away and she clicked off the recorder, looking around, slowly at first then more and more frantically.

"Oh my God," John heard her gasp. Her face had turned pale white and her hands gripped tightly at the side of the bridge. He looked out to the spot of frozen water where she was looking so intently but nothing was there. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm coming!" she called, lifting one leg over the guardrail.

"Stop!" John shouted. He lunged out from his hiding space, waving his arms to get her attention but she seemed to be in some sort of trance. He ran back up to the mouth of the bridge, nearly slipping on ice as he made his way to her. He grabbed her just as she swung her second leg over. He pulled her back over the edge. She struggled against him, trying to get back over to the side of the bridge and to the water below but he pinned her down.

"Let go! Let go of me! She needs me!" the woman screamed at him.

"Who? Who needs you?" John asked.

"The baby. The baby, who else? Can't you hear her crying? She must be freezing down th-" John grabbed her and carried her off the bridge. She went limp, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she looked up into his face. She struggled out of his arms and rushed down to the edge of the water, peering out in search of the phantom child.

"She was there… she was right there -" She turned back to John, a look of utter confusion etched on her face. "I don't hear her crying anymore."

* O *

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding! I'm drunk but I'm not that drunk," Dean said as he eyed the tiny pink underwear that Rhonda had pulled out of the dresser and was waving at him.

"Come on, what have you got to lose?" she asked, moving closer to him and pushing him down onto the bed.

"My dignity," Dean said flatly, eying the satiny underwear with distaste.

"Pfft, dignity's overrated." She swung one leg over his lap and lowered herself onto his thighs. "In fact, it's nothing more than a social construct put in place by those too uptight to try something new. Are you afraid of looking like a fool?"

"Well, when you put it like that!" Dean said with a roll of his eyes.

"Because you shouldn't be. You're not gonna look stupid. You're gonna look hot. Live a little!"

"I already live a lot, but thanks," Dean said, not bothering to keep the irritation from creeping into his voice.

"Okay, sure you live, but when's the last time you let go of your inhibitions and had fun?" Dean had no snappy comeback. The last time he had let himself go was with Sam - those moments of weakness that struck before he could take control again and stop himself. But Sam had chosen to leave, which in reality was probably better for everyone but that didn't matter. His brother and his father were all he had and Dean couldn't bear to lose either one of them.

"You know, I shouldn't even be here. I've got a job to take care of," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, well, take a day off," Rhonda whispered.

_- A/N: BAM. I put Rhonda Hurley and the satiny pink underwear in my story! Oh, what now? Yay for expanding upon things that were merely referenced in canon. I was really afraid of putting this scene in and totally disrupting the angsty mood when I finally said, 'screw it! I need to lighten things up a bit.' Dean got some much needed time to banter and it's not like I'm going into specifics. I feel like that would just become a little too silly for this particular story. So use your imagination, gentle readers, if it pleases you._

_Anyway, sorry it took so long to update. My life is finally going back to normal, schedule-wise, so posts should be happening regularly. :)  
Please, please, please tell me what you think.  
It's been far too long since I've heard from y'all. (Which is my fault, but still - I've missed you!)  
Much love,  
~aep _


	94. A Prayer

**94. A Prayer**

John handed her a cup of coffee as he exited the twenty-four hour diner and watched as she took the lid off and blew on the scalding liquid. "Rebecca Jordan?" he muttered, trying to remember where he knew the woman's name from. "You're the one who wrote the article about the missing women in connection to the bridge." Rebecca nodded, taking a sip of coffee and grimacing slightly. The two started walking down the deserted Doylestown sidewalk, the sun just beginning to rise. "Why the hell would you go to that bridge when you yourself made the connection that multiple young women have been disappearing there? You could've been next. You _would've_ been," John said.

"I can take care of myself," Rebecca said with a shrug.

"Oh, clearly," John muttered. Rebecca set her jaw and took another sip of coffee. "You need to tell me exactly what you saw."

"Are you another reporter?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

"No, I'm a freelance investigator."

Rebecca nodded slowly before speaking. "You're telling me you didn't see or hear that baby out there last night?" she asked.

"Neither did you once I dragged your ass off that damn bridge," John pointed out. They rounded a corner and kept walking. John took a drag from his coffee cup and studied Rebecca. He could tell she was normally a confident young woman but her voice was wavering now as she tried to make sense of what had happened.

"Yeah but that doesn't make any sense, she must have -"

"You called the baby a she last night too. From where you were standing how the hell could you tell if it was a boy or a girl?"

"I just… knew," Rebecca said, her brow furrowing. "None of this makes any sense."

"It's not supposed to, not to you anyway," he muttered the last part under his breath.

* O *

Dean crept out of bed, gathering up his clothes and quickly putting them on in the silence of morning. He took one last look at Rhonda who was sprawled across the rumpled bed with a little smile on her sleeping face. Then he slipped out the door and made the short walk back to the bar and to where he'd parked the Impala. He slid into the driver's seat and grabbed the cell phone from the glove compartment, flipping it open and checking for any messages. "Dammit Dad," he muttered, closing it after the unpleasant electronic voice told him that there were no messages.

* O *

Sam took a bite out of a slice of pizza, picking off a piece of sausage for Bones who was eying the food desperately. Sam threw the little chunk of meat over the coffee table and she wolfed it down, wagging her tail happily. Sam patted the empty seat next to him on the couch and Bones jumped up. "Good girl." She nuzzled her head against his side and shifted until she was comfortable. He finished his slice of pizza and stood, making his way over to the wall calendar and marking the day with a pen from behind his ear. Twelve days since he had left Harrison, Ohio. Twelve days that he'd been free of his family. He doodled in the blank square that had the date: Friday, March 6. More than six months since that first kiss in the dark of some distant motel room. Sam banished the thought from his head.

He studied the glossy page for a moment before sitting back down and reaching into the pizza box on the coffee table for another slice, this time letting Bones eat a pepperoni from out of his hand. He finished eating, wiping the grease on his jeans and standing up again. "Come on Bones, let's go for a walk," he said. Bones hopped down from the couch and grabbed her leash in her mouth, bringing it to him. "Good girl. So smart." He attached the leash to her collar and they left the room, walking into the growing darkness of the evening.

By the time they reentered the room, night had descended, leaving a pitch black canvas in place of the sky. Sam unhooked Bones' leash and flipped open the pizza box, grabbing another slice and walking over to his bed as he took a bite out of it. Bones followed after him, wistful eyes gazing up at his pizza.

"No more for you Bones, you've had enough. Go eat your own food if you're hungry. Go on." The dog turned from him and made her way over to the bowl of dog food on the floor that Sam had laid out for her earlier. He finished the slice of pizza and dropped to the floor to do his regimen of pushups before bed.

He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow when he had finished, crawling into bed and falling asleep within minutes.

_"Running away from me isn't the answer, Sammy," Dean's voice whispered in his ear. Sam opened his eyes to see his brother standing over his bed._

_"I'm not running away from you… it's everything," Sam replied softly._

_"Okay, sure, maybe it's a little more complex than that but you know the main reason you left is because you can't deal with me and the way you feel about me."_

_"God, Dean, shut up!" Sam growled._

_"Hey, it's your dream," Dean said with a shrug. "You shut me up." He leaned forward and Sam grabbed his shoulders, muscles not knowing whether to push him away or pull him forward. His desire won out and within a moment he had pulled Dean down on top of him. Their lips met in a kiss._

Sam jerked awake. "Dammit," he whispered as he sat up in bed. _Come on, Sam. You've barely thought about him, let alone dreamed about him since you left. Why are you letting him creep back into your head now?_ he thought angrily to himself. He ran both hands through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes and sighing. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.

"God, please, please let me forget about him," he whispered. "I know I haven't prayed in a while but I'd do anything to stop feeling like this. Look, I'm, I'm not trying to complain here but haven't I had a hard enough life already without this bullshit on top of everything? Why are letting me want him like this? Have you given me these feelings as some sort of test? 'Cause if so, I can say right now that I've failed."

Sam shook his head and sighed again. "Why can't I be normal? God, just make me normal. Please?" A tear slid down his cheek. "Please," he whispered again before lying back down and burying his face in his pillow.

* O *

"Getting warm!" Kelly's voice pierced the silence in the car.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean slammed on the breaks and jerked around to see her sprawled in the backseat.

"Guess again." Dean wanted to rip the smirk right off of Kelly's face. "So, how you doin' Dean?"

Dean glared at her, putting the car in park and yanking out the key. "Quit the small talk."

"Ooh, it's sexy when you cut right to the point like that. Not at all desperate." Dean continued to glare at her, not saying a word.

"Well, like I said, you're getting warm. I mean, you're in the right state, so that's a start. And you're actually only one county away from the kid, so kudos." She chewed on her lip for a moment, thinking. "Then again it's almost been two weeks and you still haven't found your baby brother. I thought you were a hunter. Aren't you supposed to be able to track things? Like a werewolf or a demon or a little slice of floppy-haired jailbait?"

Dean sighed. "Fine, either tell me where he is or leave me the hell alone."

"Again, very direct. Have I ever told you how much I like your attitude, Dean?" she asked conversationally. "Maybe it's 'cause we're so alike."

"I'm nothing like you." Even before he had finished saying it he knew neither of them really believed it.

"_Right_," Kelly said slowly. Dean held his breath, waiting for her to start in on him but she didn't. Rather uncharacteristically, she let the subject go. Or maybe she just knew he was already making the connections for himself, already torturing himself with the thought of all they had in common.

Words from months ago crept into Dean's head, words uttered by Kelly when she'd still had a pulse. _"Bottom line: you're just like us. Sick thoughts stuffed in that pretty little head of yours - sex and violence. Then again, what else is there?"_ Even before she had been able to see into his mind and his future she had known him all too well.

"So, do you want help finding your brother or not?" Kelly asked, her voice breaking through Dean's momentary reverie.

_- A/N: I wanted to put Sam praying in here at some point and so I finally stuck it in. It's another little element that feeds into the canon of the show so I want to include it and hopefully expand upon it as things progress. I'm a little annoyed with myself that it took me so long to add it in but at least it's here now.  
Anyway… Yes, a reunion between the boys is imminent, as in… next chapter.  
Well, tell me what you think. More soon. :)  
~aep _


	95. Reunited

**95. Reunited**

Dean let the car idle in the motel parking lot. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror where he could still see Kelly sprawled out in the backseat. "He's in the room on the far end there." She pointed to the door all the way to the left on the little row of motel rooms. Dean studied it for a moment, eyes straining in the weak light of early dawn.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked quietly.

"Why must you always assume everyone has an ulterior motive?" Kelly asked indignantly.

"Because they do," Dean replied.

"Fair enough," she chuckled. "I'm helping you because you're more interesting when you're together. The Sam and Dean show just isn't the same when you two are apart. I need my daily dose of angsty entertainment. Besides, I already offered my services to your father and he declined." Silence settled over the car. Kelly's last comment about Dean's father had done its job. The thought of John not rushing at any chance to find his youngest son crawled under Dean's skin and settled there like a parasite.

"Well, go get him, tiger," Kelly said, breaking the silence. Dean ignored her, cutting the engine and yanking the key from the ignition. He pocketed the keys and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she pressed.

"For you to get the fuck away from me," Dean growled, staring straight ahead.

"Ouch. Touchy. Alright, fine. I mean, you're right, this little reunion should probably be a private moment," she said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Well, I'll see you later, Dean."

He glanced in the rearview mirror again only to find an empty backseat. Dean sat there for another moment before finally stepping from the car and slowly making his way across the lot and towards his brother's room.

His fist hung suspended in the air for a few seconds, an inch away from the door, before he finally knocked. He heard a dog bark and then quiet. He was about to knock again when the door opened just enough to reveal Sam standing there. Dean's eyes locked with Sam's. A void stood between them, nothing there but aching silence until finally Dean cleared his throat and spoke. "Time to go, Sam."

Sam just stood in the doorway, staring at his big brother. "Now, Sam," Dean said, forcefully pushing the door the rest of the way open and entering the motel room. "Come on, pack up your shit and let's go." He surveyed the dark room. If he hadn't known better he would have assumed that Sam had been living there for months. He eyed the wall of postcards, recognizing them as Sam's collection. "You _decorated_ the place?" he asked in disbelief. Sam made no reply. Dean shook his head.

He wanted to yell, to grab Sam by the arm and haul him out of there. The dog he had heard when he'd first knocked on the door had come to stand by Sam's feet, a throaty growl emanating from it. "Sam, I'm not gonna say it again. Get your shit together. We're going!"

"What about Bones?" Sam asked, already knowing what the answer would be before he had even finished the question.

"The dog? Really? Screw the dog, Sam! Dad sent me to find you and bring you back home. He wasn't expecting any fucking pets to come back with you! Jesus, two weeks since I've seen you. You could've been dead for all I knew and your first words to me are about a damn dog!" Dean wanted to grab Sam by the shoulders and shake him.

"Don't just stand there! Pack up, Sam! Pack or we're leaving without your stuff. Look, I'll help you!" Dean turned from his little brother and ripped the nearest postcards from the wall, turning back and shoving them in Sam's hands. Sam clutched the postcards for a minute before letting them fall from his hands. He watched as Dean snatched more postcards off the wall.

"Leave it," Sam said. Dean kept grabbing at the cards. "Leave it alone, Dean! Leave _me_ alone!"

"No, you've had enough 'alone time'. Two weeks of it. Now I'm gonna wait outside. If you haven't packed up everything you want to take with you in two minutes, we're leaving without it. In fact, if you're not out of this room in two minutes, I'll drag you out myself. You hear me?" Dean shouted, his voice and the severity of his words sounding far too much like his father. He didn't wait for Sam to reply. Instead he walked from the room, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it. "Goddammit, Sam," he whispered as he watched the sun begin to rise. He stepped away from the door and crossed his arms against his chest. Sam exited the room a minute later with his bag slung over his shoulder and a plaid shirt that had been hastily shoved in the top hanging out of it.

Bones followed after her master, eyes looking up at him pleadingly. Sam knelt down and patted her head. "I'm sorry Bones, I gotta go."

"Let's get a move on, Sam," Dean said through gritted teeth as he watched his brother tenderly mutter something to the golden retriever. Sam wrapped his arms around the dog in a quick hug before standing and turning away from her. "Let's go," Dean said. Sam took a deep breath and followed after his brother, unable to take one last look back at Bones for fear of crying.

The boys got into the Impala and Dean peeled out of the lot, his eye gravitating to his side view mirror and the tiny reflection of the dog he found there, chasing after the car. He pressed down harder on the gas until Bones could no longer keep up. "You'd rather live with a dog than your own family?" Dean asked, stealing a glance at his little brother.

"A dog's easier to live with," Sam muttered with a shrug.

"Life isn't easy, Sam!" Dean shouted, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning pure white. "Hand me the cell phone. It's in the glove compartment," he said after he'd calmed down enough so that he was no longer yelling.

Not surprisingly, there was no new voicemail. Dean dialed his father's number, rolling his eyes when the answering machine picked up. "Hey Dad. I found him. We're headin' back to Ohio. We'll be back in a few days. It'd be great if you could actually call me back," he snapped, ending the call and tossing the cell phone into his brother's lap. Sam replaced it in the glove compartment.

The dusty road stretched out before them, eerily quiet under the glow of the morning sun. Sam chanced a glance at Dean; jaw clenched and eyes set straight ahead. He wanted to apologize to his big brother but he couldn't get out the words. He turned away from Dean and stared out the window as the scenery flew past.

_- A/N: More to come on John's hunt soon. In the meantime, tell me what you think. Love to you all. For those of you who have recently returned to school, how's it going?  
~aep _


	96. Crybaby

**96. Crybaby**

Sam shut the car radio off, silencing the overpowering classic rock emanating from the speakers. "Dean, you've been driving for thirteen hours straight. Let's stop somewhere and get some rest," Sam said, speaking up for the first time in hours.

"I don't need to rest," Dean muttered stubbornly, his tired eyes fixed on the road. He turned the radio back on, raising the volume until the bassline made the entire Impala vibrate.

"Dean, you need to get some sleep before you crash and kill us," Sam said, shutting the radio off again. Dean pulled over to the shoulder of the road and turned the car off, studying his little brother intently for a moment.

"The last time I let my guard down around you and 'got some sleep', you stole my credit card and hitchhiked across the country. I'm not gonna make the same mistake twice."

"Great, so you'd rather risk our lives than trust me?" Sam muttered under his breath.

"Dude, seriously?" Dean asked, the incredulity etched on his exhausted face. "You haven't exactly given me a reason to trust you lately."

"Fine. Don't trust me but use some common sense. If you don't get some sleep we'll end up wrapped around a tree before we ever get to Ohio. Besides, we gotta eat at some point," Sam said, trying to reason with his big brother.

Dean hated to admit it, but he knew Sam was right. He needed sleep and he needed food. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean with the smallest of I-told-you-so smiles. "Shut up," Dean growled out. He started up the car again. "Let's get some food," he said quietly.

* O *

Sam stared blankly at his brother as he ate, eyes gazing absentmindedly at the cheeseburger in Dean's hand as he toyed with his own fries. He wasn't really seeing what was in front of him; all he could see was Bones, looking up at him with those sad eyes, the way she chased after him as the car took off, the way she had found him - another stray, another runaway, the way he ended up abandoning her.

Dean cleared his throat and waved a hand in front of his little brother's face. "Earth to Sam," he said, taking a bite of his cheeseburger and watching Sam closely.

"What?" Sam asked, pulling himself from the thoughts of the dog who had been his companion over the past week and a half.

The raging anger that Dean had felt towards his little brother while he was looking for him and then at their reunion hadn't exactly started to ebb, but was slowly being replaced by a need to reach out to Sam and reconnect. He took a bite of his cheeseburger, chewing it slowly while he tried to think of something to say, something to bridge the gap between them. _He's not gonna wanna talk to me. He ran across the country to get away from Dad and me and I just yanked the kid out of his hiding spot. I'm dragging his ass back to the same mess that he wanted to run away from in the first place. Except this time he's gonna be obsessing over that damn dog I made him leave behind._

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked, trying to catch his brother's attention. Dean's focus shifted from his thoughts and back to the face of the boy sitting in front of him. He gritted his teeth.

"Never mind."

* O *

"Look, I don't have time for this. Go home and find a different story to pursue," John told Rebecca flatly. She looked at him indignantly. "Get in your car and go. I can't get a bead on this case if I have to baby-sit a reporter." A stubborn expression settled over Rebecca's face and the two of them stood there in the street, eying each other.

"Fine," she said, walking away from John and towards her army green jeep. "But you could use my help. After all, I'm the one that can see that baby." She put her key in the lock and opened the car door by an inch. She paused. "What exactly is a crybaby bridge?" John made no response but he knew the mild surprise at her question was evident on his face. "I took a look at your notes while you were in the bathroom earlier. After all, it's a reporter's job to snoop."

John could feel the corners of his mouth turn up in an involuntary smile. "Alright, you can stick around for now. As long as we keep things on a need-to-know basis." Rebecca rolled her eyes and shrugged but slammed her car door shut, withdrawing the keys from the lock and walking back towards John.

Rebecca took a seat on John's motel bed and rifled through the file folder that held all the information he had gathered on the missing women. "Looks like Natasha Ancore was the first woman to disappear but this article doesn't say anything about the bridge. Granted, it's a pretty miniscule article but still," Rebecca pointed out.

"True, but judging from the timeline, she's probably the one that started all this," John said.

"But then what does that baby have to do with anything?" Rebecca asked, still flipping through the papers, eyes scanning copies of old newspaper clippings.

John withdrew a piece of paper from his jeans pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Rebecca. "Natasha Ancore welcomes daughter into the world," she skimmed the rest of the blurb. "Andrea was born February third, 1967 at Franklin Memorial at exactly one-thirty in the morning. Okay, but these disappearances - only a handful of the women were mothers. What's the pattern?"

"I'm trying to work that out," John muttered. "I don't think these papers are gonna give us anymore information. Let's go back to the bridge."

The car ride didn't take long but by the time John had parked the rental by the edge of the bridge, darkness had begun to descend. The two of them stepped out of the car, walking onto the bridge, eyes peering around in the weakening light. They came to the center of the bridge and Rebecca froze.

Her eyes were fixed on something John couldn't make out. He squinted into the darkness unable to see anything but the water beneath the bridge. He turned back to the woman by his side, studying the small, surprised 'o' her lips had formed.

"What is it?" John asked. It was as if she hadn't heard him. She took a tentative step forward, still staring at some invisible force. A sudden gust of wind rushed past the two of them, leaving the air a few degrees cooler than it had been a moment ago.

"John?" Rebecca asked quietly. John took a step towards her. "The baby - she was there a second ago, on the water. I don't know -" her voice cut out, replaced by a gasp. Her entire body began to shudder. John rushed to her just before she fell. She grabbed his hand like a vice and pulled him to his knees, her whole being still shaking. An electrical charge surged through her and into John. The world around him dissolved into blackness for a moment before returning, but this time with two strangers standing before him on the bridge.

A petite woman with long, dark hair bundled in winter clothes that denoted a style of a period past spoke. "Anthony, please. I know you love me and you'd love this baby too if you gave her a chance. Your wife can't even have children -"

"That doesn't mean I should leave her, Natasha." The man who spoke was considerably older than the woman before him and he had an exasperated note in his voice. He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair then breathed on his bare hands for warmth.

"I know you care about her but she can't give you a family. And I already have," Natasha said, moving closer to Anthony with the infant in her arms. "Look at her. Look how beautiful she is. We made her." She passed the child to Anthony who stared down at the little bundle that had just been placed in his arms. An indiscernible expression flickered on the man's face as held the child. He squared his jaw and forced the child back into her mother's arms.

"Tasha, I can't do this." There was a hard edge to his voice, a glint in his eye. "I'm too old to start a family now."

"But, But I've been waiting for you."

"Stop waiting. I'm not leaving Christine."

The sweet pleading desperation on Natasha's face melted away, replaced by a hardened look. "I have been a good little girl for so long. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep this child if you're not gonna be a father to her. Christine doesn't need you. She doesn't need you to be the father for the children she can't have. Look at his little girl in my arms. _We_ need you."

"Don't talk about Christine that way. I-I love her," Anthony whispered.

"Oh please, Tony. You love her so much that you've been sleeping with me for the past fifteen years. How would she like to know that? How would she like to know that I've given you the child that she can't."

"Nobody can know about us!" His hands twitched at his sides, as if itching to grab her and shake her. The baby shifted in Natasha's arms, making him pause.

"Nobody will know Tony," she said in a soothing voice, "not if you leave her now. I can't keep waiting, not anymore. Not now that I have this child. Nobody even has to know that Andrea is yours."

The baby cooed quietly. Anthony's gaze shifted from Natasha's face to the baby she was holding. "Maybe if we just left now…" he whispered under his breath.

The ghost of a hopeful smile crossed Natasha's lips as she looked into Anthony's face. "Yes. Please, let's just go," she said, taking a step closer to him.

The conflicting emotions flashed in his eyes before they took on a wild gleam. Something shifted in him the more he stared at the little girl. "If you didn't have this baby you wouldn't need me, not for anything," he whispered, a hollow look etched in his eyes.

Natasha lifted a hand to Anthony's face, touching his cheek and trying to catch his focus. "Anthony, what are you -?"

Anthony's hands shot forward, grabbing the baby away from Natasha. She stood stunned for a moment, staring at her lover and the vice-like grip he had on her baby. "What are you doing?" she asked desperately, eyes widening as she watched Anthony take hurried steps towards the side of the bridge, the child outstretched before him. A piercing wail began to emanate from the tiny creature, as if she knew what was about to happen. The child's cry seemed to awaken Natasha and she lunged forward, but not in time. Anthony released his grip of the child over the edge of the bridge. There was a sickening splash in the water below and the child's cries were quelled instantly.

Everything began to blur and then suddenly it was just Rebecca and John kneeling on the bridge again.

_- A/N: OMG, ghosts have such soap opera lives! At least, mine do. lol. I wasn't particularly happy with John's side of this chapter until my beloved friend Sylvia helped me fix it, 'cause trust me, it was sort of a train wreck before her intervention.  
Anyway, sorry this wasn't posted last week. Settling into the new school year and everything that comes along with it has made things uber hectic.  
Anyway, tell me what you think. More to come!  
~aep _


	97. Sidestepping Confrontation

**97. Sidestepping Confrontation**

"What the _hell_ was that?" Rebecca asked, panting as she got to her feet and backing away from John and the spectral disturbance that had plunged them into that vision. John glanced at his watch as he stood. Barely a minute had passed since the world around them had dissolved to be replaced with a scene from years ago. He looked into Rebecca's frightened face.

John sighed. "Great. Now comes 'the truth is out there' speech," he murmured somewhat impatiently. Rebecca eyed him questioningly. "Here's the short version: a crybaby bridge is a haunted location. We're standing on one. Looks like the child that was drowned here reached out to you. You grabbed me and took me along for the ride so we both got to see what the kid was trying to show you."

"W-What?" Rebecca whispered. John could practically see her head spinning as she tried to take everything in.

"Ghosts are real. I hunt them. Stop them from hurting people. Like all the women that have been disappearing here over the years." John elaborated. Rebecca sighed deeply, clearly trying to take it all in. "And not a word of this goes into the papers."

That snapped her back to reality. "But this would be an epic st-"

John cut her off. "No. It's not an epic story. You talk about this and you'll land yourself in the nuthouse so just shut up and let me do my work." Translating what she had seen into a medium she was familiar with seemed to be the only way she could process the sudden awareness of a world within a world but John didn't have time for it.

He didn't care how blunt he was being. He finally had enough of a lead on the case that he could get some actual work done. He now knew what had happened on the bridge over thirty years ago. His first step had to be finding Anthony.

"Look, Rebecca, if you wanna help, you can find Anthony. I need to talk to him if he's still alive. I don't know the last name but his wife is Christine and -"

"Hello? I know how to do research," Rebecca said, cutting John off.

"So you'll do it?" John asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Let's just get the hell off this bridge."

* O *

"Get some sleep," Dean muttered as he closed and locked the motel room door and leaned against it. Sam discarded his backpack by one of the two twin beds where he took a seat.

"What about you?" Sam asked.

"I'm gonna get some sleep too," Dean said, sliding down against the door and sinking into a sitting position there.

"There's a free bed," Sam said. Dean forced himself not to glare at his little brother.

"I'm not stepping away from this door," Dean said flatly.

"Okay. Fair enough," Sam murmured, standing and stripping the blanket from the bed before lying down in it. He eyed Dean for a minute before turning away from his big brother and closing his eyes.

Dean leaned his head back against the door, staring up at the ceiling, fighting sleep despite how desperately he needed it. The frustration at everything he was feeling was burning like acid in his stomach. He wished he could just be relieved to have his brother back but he wasn't. He was so angry. Angry at Sam for running away in the first place, angry that he couldn't trust him not to run away again, angry at himself for letting Sam escape. And furious that it had taken so long to find him, that when he was finally closing in he had accepted Kelly's help, in effect indebting himself to her even if he could have found Sam on his own, given a little more time. But how could he have refused? It was his job to protect Sam no matter the cost.

Nevertheless, he felt dirty for following Kelly's information. And he knew that was exactly why she had given it to him. Dean's eyes strayed from the ceiling, falling to rest on Sam. He could tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he wasn't asleep yet. His own voice sounding in the quiet room surprised the both of them. Sam sat up to look at his brother.

"I had… moments when I was afraid you were dead, you know," Dean said. "More than moments," he added quietly.

"I can take care of myself," Sam muttered.

"I know. That's not the point. Just because I know you're capable doesn't mean that I don't worry about you. We've never been separated for that long. And never when I didn't know where you were. I'm supposed to watch out for you."

Sam turned away from his brother. He had barely paid any thought to what Dean must have been going through when he had left, he had been too consumed by his own need to escape from it all. He felt ashamed for not considering Dean in all this. _Then again,_ a defiant voice sounded clearly in his mind, _Why should it be my job to worry about Dean's feelings? I'm the little brother here. Like he said, it's his job to watch out for me, not the other way around._ Another voice seemed to combat the defiant one, _That's not fair. Somebody's gotta watch out for him too, it's not like Dad's gonna. We're all we've got._ The all too familiar nagging sense of guilt descended upon the youngest Winchester.

"You bailed on me," Dean said, echoing Sam's thoughts.

"I know. I'm sorry. Let's just, let's just get some sleep for now. We'll deal with… everything later," Sam said. He pulled the blanket over himself and laid back down.

"Wow, you don't wanna talk? I'm a little surprised, Sam," Dean muttered bitterly. Sam bit down on his bottom lip and closed his eyes.

* O *

John stood up at the rap on the door, opening it to find Rebecca standing there with a smile on her face. "Anthony Roberts is alive," she said as she strode into the room. "Christine Roberts died back in seventy-six, but Tony is alive and well. He's been in a nursing home for the past eight years."

"Where?"

"The Rosemary Woods Home for the Elderly. It's like twenty minutes from here," Rebecca said.

John grabbed his jacket from off his bed and slipped it on. "Let's go."

_- A/N: Excited about tomorrow's ep (Two and a Half Men). I was afraid it was going to look too much like this fanfic that I started writing last year about Sam and Dean finding a baby (it's not posted… yet) but judging from the sneak peeks it's actually quite different. Yay! Anyway, gah. Life has been seriously stressing me out but I'll do my best to continue posting regularly on Thursdays. I'm sorry in advance if the schedule gets a bit wonky. I love you all. Tell me what you think. Your comments are like bottled joy splashed across my computer screen._

_Okay… that's just a weird visual. Anyway… Until next week, gentle readers.  
~aep _


	98. Going

**98. Going**

"Alright, come on, let's head out." Sam could feel Dean nudging him awake. He opened his eyes slowly and sat up. "Let's get back on the road," Dean said. Sam glanced at his watch; only six hours to rest and now back to driving. He rubbed his eyes blearily and looked up into Dean's. The older brother still looked exhausted but resolute. "Let's go," he said again. Sam nodded and pulled himself out of bed, donning his jacket and backpack and following Dean out of the room.

He waited in the Impala as Dean returned the keys to the office, staring blankly at the dashboard before letting his eyes fall shut.

* O *

A knock on the door made her eyes fly open. She sat up from the couch and made her way slowly to the door, hand hesitating over the knob before pulling it open. A man with dirty blond hair and concerned eyes stood before her.

"Hey Tara," Jack said. She pushed the door open wider for him to enter. "I've been calling but -"

"I didn't get around to paying the phone bill this month," Tara muttered, her voice scratchy from disuse. She gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. He did and she followed suit, sitting on the other end with her knees pressed against her chest.

"Yeah, but I was calling all last month too," Jack said gently.

"I know," Tara whispered.

"The boss-man finally fired you," Jack paused, searching Tara's face for some sort of reaction that he didn't find. "He held out for longer than I expected," he continued, "As much as he hates you, he knows you're like the best one there. Still, he had to do it eventually."

The news didn't register as a shock, it was inevitable. She'd been missing work for over two months now. She did feel a slight pang when she thought of the all the teens she worked with and how she'd never get to see them again. She had been their confidant and she had walked out on them, blinded by her own grief.

Tara watched absentmindedly as Jack looked the place over, eyes finally falling back to her. "How can I help you, Tare?" he asked softly.

"You can't."

"I should've come sooner. I shouldn't have given you all this time to yourself. I just thought…" Jack muttered. "I'm so sorry, Tara. About everything."

"Thanks," Tara whispered, the word sounding hollow in her mouth. Their eyes met, brown staring into brown. Tara could tell that the smile growing on Jack's face was a forced one but she appreciated it nevertheless.

"Let me make you something to eat. You're getting too skinny. Let's get those curves back, 'cause quite frankly, I can see bone and it's gross."

"Gee, thanks." The note of sarcasm in her voice seemed to reassure Jack a little and the smile on his face transformed into something more genuine. He stood and made the short trip into the kitchen. Tara remained on the couch, listening to the cupboards opening and closing for a moment before Jack returned to the living room.

"There's nothing in there. What have you been eating?" he asked. Tara shrugged. "Okay, that's it. Get dressed. We're going food shopping. And then we're sorting through your mail and bills and getting you back on track. Alright?"

She knew better than to protest when Jack laid down the law like that. She had known him since freshman year of college and he hadn't changed much since then. "Go get dressed," he said again with a dismissive flick.

"Fine," Tara said softly, the smallest of smiles lighting up her features for the first time in a while.

* O *

The lobby of the nursing home was a brightly lit, welcoming place with several vases brimming with flowers and lush carpeting. John drummed his fingers on the front desk quietly and waited for the receptionist to get off the phone. Rebecca stood beside him, arms crossed against her chest as she looked around the lobby.

"We're here to see my uncle. His name's Anthony Roberts," John said when the woman had hung up the phone.

"I can't remember the last time Mr. Roberts had a visitor. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you. But between you and me, he's not doing very well - dementia is really setting in," the woman said. She opened up a three-ring binder and slid her finger down a page with names and room numbers until she reached the one she was looking for. "He's in two-thirteen."

"Thanks," John said. He and Rebecca walked to the other end of the lobby and took the elevator up to the second floor. The doors slid open and the two of them walked down the hall. Rebecca pointed to room 213. John pulled the door open and let Rebecca enter first. It was a fairly small room with one bed pushed against the far side and a chair by the window with a white-haired man sitting in it. He turned at the sound of the door opening, his eyes clouded with age.

"Hello Mr. Roberts," Rebecca said softly. Her voice was kind but when John glanced at her face he saw disgust there.

"Who, who are you? Do I know you?" Anthony whispered, his old voice gravelly and tired. John shook his head, stepping closer to the old man, followed by Rebecca. Anthony squinted up into their faces as they closed in on him. A strange expression stole over his face, one of realization and then irrational fear.

"Y-You know. You know what I've done," Anthony said. He stared into John's eyes knowingly, fear and shame etched in every line and wrinkle on his face. His gaze shifted to Rebecca. "You know," he whispered again. He continued muttering, more to himself now than to either of them.

Rebecca caught John's eye with a questioning look. She nudged him a little and they took a few steps away from the elderly man. "How could he know?" she whispered.

"The nurse said he had dementia," John started, mulling an idea over in his head. "Children can often see things that adults can't. His brain is slowly returning to that childlike state. Maybe he's picking up on the supernatural the way a kid would, the way we've forgotten how to."

"What world do you live in where that's an explanation that makes any sense?" Rebecca murmured. She shook her head slightly and stayed behind as John reapproached Anthony.

"Yes. We know what you did. Well, we know about the baby anyway. Now what I need to know is what happened to Natasha." A shiver seemed to pass through the old man at the name. "What did you do to her?" John pushed.

Anthony groaned, raking his veiny, age-spotted hands through his wispy hair in a panic. Rebecca took a step forward, pausing before resting one of her young, unlined hands over his. "Please tell us what happened that night," she said softly. Anthony's hands dropped to his sides as he stared up into Rebecca's face.

"She's just resting," he finally spoke.

"Where? Where is she resting, Anthony?" Rebecca asked gently.

"By the bridge. In the woods. In, in the dirt." Anthony's hands began to shake and he grabbed Rebecca's hand, clasping it tightly in his, until the blue veins protruded even more prominently than they had a moment ago. "She wanted to talk to my Christine. She wanted to tell her things. Things Christine didn't need to know. Couldn't know." Tears were starting to fill the old man's eyes. "I took it away from Natasha. I couldn't take care of it. I had to think of Christine. I took it away and then I took Tasha away."

"Where did you take her?"

"To the woods! Into the woods! I hid her there. I left. I went home to my Christine. Christine, Christine…" He repeated his wife's name again and again until his voice had died away.

"That's all we're gonna get out of him," John muttered, reaching forward and freeing Rebecca's hand from Anthony's grasp. "Let's go. Let's get out of here."

_- A/N: Yay! Finally bringing Tara back into the story, something I've been wanting to do for a while. Besides my friend Sylvia has been nagging me to. lol.  
John is getting closer to finishing his hunt and Sam and Dean... well, not much happened with them this 'episode' but don't worry, they'll be very prominent in the next chapter. :)  
Comments/Reviews if you please!  
~aep _


	99. Still Alone

**99. Still Alone**

Jack handed his debit card to the cashier and Tara made to protest but he turned and gave her a look that stopped her. "You can pay me when you get your job back. Understood? For now, don't worry about it."

Tara nodded, afraid that if she spoke she would burst into tears in the middle of the supermarket. Jack finished paying and the grocer hauled all the bags into their shopping cart. Jack guided the cart with one hand and as they walked through the automatic doors he put his free arm around Tara, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

"Thank you, Jack," she whispered. He kissed the top of her head and they walked back to his car, the food-laden shopping cart rattling along ahead of them.

* O *

Dean cut the engine and shoved the keys into his pocket. "Home sweet -"

"This isn't home," Sam cut him off quietly, looking up at the old dilapidated house. Sam got out of the car and started walking towards the front door. Dean followed suit, catching up to Sam and pulling open the door.

"Yeah, well, maybe not. But it's all we've got for now," Dean replied coldly, though inwardly he couldn't help but agree. In fact, he absolutely hated being back at the house that had seen the abuse of the Wright siblings. This was the place where Kelly and Eric had lost their humanity when they were only children.

"Dad?" Dean called when they had both stepped inside. "Dad! We're back!" No reply came. Dean ran up the stairs, knocking on his father's door. He pushed it open gently but it was empty. He searched the rest of the floor before walking back downstairs to find Sam still standing in the same spot by the front door.

"He's not even here, is he? That's why he hasn't been returning your calls. He's on a hunt."

"Looks that way," Dean muttered. "Go to your room and get unpacked." Sam clenched his jaw but did as he was told. Dean watched his little brother climb the stairs before heading back out to the car. He took the seat on the passenger's side and pulled the cell phone from the glove compartment. _No missed calls. Big surprise there,_ he thought to himself. He dialed his father's number and waited for the inevitable beep of the answering machine.

"This is the last time I'm gonna call. Sammy and I are back at the house. So, uh, we'll see you when we see you, I guess." He hung up and slid the phone into his jacket pocket before stepping out of the Impala and going inside.

* O *

"Well, that was disturbing. And really… vague," Rebecca murmured as John started up the car and they drove away from the nursing home.

"Better than nothing," John said with a shrug.

"It's kind of next to nothing though - I mean, he hid her in the woods. Her body could be anywhere."

"It was a crime of opportunity. But he didn't just dump her in the creek 'cause it would be easy to spot a grown woman floating facedown in the water." John noticed Rebecca tense out of the corner of his eye, perhaps uncomfortable by his matter-of-fact tone.

"So the woods was his best bet at hiding her," John continued. "He was, what - in his late fifties, in good shape but still kind of old to be dragging a body all through the woods. She's probably not that far from the bridge. So we'll start there."

Though it was just past three in the afternoon the sun had already disappeared, replaced by ominous clouds hanging darkly in the sky. John parked the rental car at the mouth of the bridge, pulling the key from the ignition and getting out. He walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out the shovel they had bought from a hardware store after visiting the nursing home.

He stood it upright in the hard dirt, resting his fingers in the handle and staring at the stretch of trees before him. He heard the passenger side door open and close and felt Rebecca come to stand next to him.

"Well this should be fun and easy," she murmured sarcastically in his ear.

"Let's get started," John said.

Salting and burning the child's bones wasn't an option. The creek would have carried her away long ago, that tiny body decaying in the water, helped along by fish and other animals. But judging by the rash of disappearances over the past thirty years, the baby was reaching out for a mother over and over again. And if that's what she wanted, why not give her the real deal?

It was a long shot and unconventional to say the least but he didn't know what else to try. It wasn't Natasha that was haunting the bridge, but her child. Maybe this could finally pacify the baby. All he needed to do was find Natasha's body so he could reunite the baby with her mother at long last.

John and Rebecca entered the thicket of woods. All the trees were bare except for the occasional pine. "What exactly are we looking for? It's not like we're gonna spot a fresh grave. Natasha was killed more than thirty years ago," Rebecca said, peering around the gloom. "How are we gonna find her?"

"Short of a miracle, I don't know," John muttered over his shoulder as he continued to trudge through the trees, shovel grasped firmly in his right hand. The woods were nearly silent except for the occasional gust of wind or the scurrying of a small animal. Eventually those little movements faded into background noise and the only sounds that registered were the thump and crunch of his and Rebecca's feet.

Moments later, it took John a second to realize that the only pair of feet he heard now were his own. He turned to find Rebecca had disappeared. "Rebecca?" Silence. "Rebecca!" He ran back the way they had come, continuing to call Rebecca's name with no answer. He finally arrived back at the car and gazing around saw Rebecca with her back to him, kneeling by the creek, her hand outstretched to something invisible to him. "REBECCA!" he called. She didn't react to the sound of his voice but instead slowly stood and stepped into the creek, wading deeper and deeper despite the biting cold. She was up to her ribcage as John ran after her, splashing through the freezing water and grabbing her around the waist, dragging her back to dry land.

"No. Andrea, Andr-" she whispered the child's name, staring into the water and calmly making to go back in, clearly not feeling the tight grip John had around her soaking body. Her voice was weak and wavering from the cold as she repeated the child's name, softly at first and then louder and more desperately.

"Rebecca," John said, shaking her and grabbing her face to look into it. Her eyes were glazed over and she seemed to look right through him. "Great," he muttered under his breath. He pulled her further away from the water's edge and while a moment ago she had been limp in his arms, she suddenly thrashed against him, clawing and sinking her teeth into his shoulder. "Ow! Son of a bitch," he groaned, not yielding to her escape attempts as he dragged her back to the car. He shoved her unceremoniously into the passenger's side and slammed the door, quickly moving around to the driver's side and starting up the car. He drove from the bridge as quickly as he could given the twists and turns in the tiny dirt road.

He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering and turned on the heat as he raced back to the motel. "Becca? Hello? Anybody home?" he asked, waving a hand in front of her face as he studied her out of the corner of his eye. The glazed look in her eye seemed to fade, as if melted by the heat. She turned to look at John.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I'm taking you back to the motel and I'm gonna keep looking for Natasha by myself. The kid's power over you is getting stronger. You walked right into the water after her. And you didn't snap out of it 'til just now. Last time she tried to get you to go in after her it only took you a minute to clear your head."

"So what, you're just gonna leave me in your motel room while you're off looking for breadcrumbs in the woods?" Rebecca asked.

"Basically. It's gonna be hard enough to find that body without having to fish you out of the water every five minutes."

"John, I-I wanna help," Rebecca said, voice chattering as she wrapped her arms around her sopping frame.

John parked the car in front of the motel. "Help by not dying. Just lay low. I'll handle this alone. That's normally what I do and it works better that way."

* O *

Dean climbed the stairs and watched as Sam unpacked, a resigned expression on his face. When Sam had emptied the majority of his bag out Dean spoke. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked. Sam looked at him quizzically. "My credit card."

"Oh, right," Sam muttered, pulling the card out of his pocket and handing it to Dean.

"_Oh, right,_" Dean mocked quietly, replacing the card in his wallet.

Silence settled over the brothers for a moment until Sam broke it. "I don't wanna be here," he blurted out.

"Yeah, I think you made that pretty clear," Dean said through gritted teeth.

"No, I mean… here. In this house. Stuck here all the time. Can't I go to school or something?"

"You're like the only kid I know who wants to be in school," Dean muttered with a shake of his head.

"I _am_ the only kid you know," Sam pointed out. He thought he saw the flicker of a smile on Dean's face at that. "So can I enroll at the local high school? I have my transcripts -" he grabbed his backpack from the off the floor and pulled out a thick file folder.

Dean took it from Sam, a little more abruptly than necessary. "What kind of nerd keeps his transcripts with him?"

Sam just shrugged and muttered, "Considering how often we move around, I just figured it was more convenient this way."

"Fine. When Dad gets back we'll get you all set up."

"If Dad's on a hunt he could be gone for weeks. I can't wait that long to go to school, Dean."

Dean clenched his jaw. He finally had his brother back home and here Sam was, trying to run away again, this time burying his nose in a book and not dealing with anything. It was infuriating, not only because of Dean's anger at Sam but because of how pathetic he felt for being hurt. He clung so desperately to what little family he had only to be rejected by them again and again, first by his father and now by Sam.

"Okay. Tomorrow I'll go to the school and sort things out for you," Dean said grudgingly.

"Thank you." Sam tried to imbue those two words with as much meaning as he could. He could see the hurt in his big brother's eyes and he wished he could make it go away, wished it was okay to just hug him but he knew he couldn't. "Thank you," he said again, pretending that Dean understood that he wasn't just saying thank you but also how sorry he was and how much he loved him.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean muttered, shaking his head and walking from the room.

_- A/N: Gah. Will I ever let these boys live angst-free?  
Sorry I didn't get this out to you yesterday but here it is.  
Thanks to everyone who reviews with their thoughts and constructive criticism. Y'all are more appreciated than I can say. A special thanks to Sylvia, a friend first and reader second (editor third, warden fourth…) for her continued help and support/badgering in writing this. Love you, girl. And I love the rest of you too. Anyway, as always, keep telling me what you think. Thanks again, lovies!  
~aep _


	100. Discovery

**100. Discovery**

Sam stood from his spot on the stairs when Dean walked through the front door. "Alright, you're all set. I talked to the school. You can start Monday," Dean told his little brother, trying not to let the smile on Sam's face get to him.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said.

"Yup," Dean muttered dismissively, walking past Sam and going upstairs to their bedroom.

The rest of the week was tense and by Sunday the hours moved agonizingly slowly for both brothers. Sam was anxious to get to school and Dean found his jittery energy aggravating. "Can you just chill out? You'll be back in school tomorrow. Relax, I can't handle you geekin' out on me right now," he muttered. Sam opened his mouth to make some sort of retort but thought better of it.

Sam was up well before the weak, winter sun had risen on Monday morning, quietly checking and rechecking his backpack to make sure he had everything he would need. Dean peered through slitted eyes at Sam who hadn't noticed his big brother was awake.

"You really can't wait to get away, can you?" Dean asked, startling Sam.

"It's not like that. I'm just not like you and Dad. I can't sit in this house planning my next hunt. Hunting's your thing. School is mine," Sam said with a little shrug, hoping Dean understood and wouldn't be offended.

"Right," Dean said softly, sitting up in bed. "Come on, let's get you to school."

* O *

Rebecca stepped out from under the jet of steaming water, turning off the shower and wrapping herself in the rough bathrobe that hung on the bathroom door. She eyed her still-soaked clothes sprawled across the radiator and sighed. She walked out of the bathroom and looked around the barren motel room, hardly lived in except for the bag in the corner and the slightly ruffled bed covers. She chewed on her lip for a moment before walking over to the bag and tossing it on the bed to inspect its contents.

"Oh Rebecca, ever the snoop," she murmured to herself as she rifled through John's bag, carefully avoiding the clothes and weapons and feeling the spine of a book beneath her fingers. She pulled out a tan leather book with papers sticking out and opened it to see John's untidy scrawl. She flipped through the pages, finding clippings, notes and illustrations. Despite her natural journalistic curiosity, after a skimming through a few pages she had to set the journal down. It was all too much to take in; she could hardly believe the crybaby bridge and she had been there to witness it, let alone wendigos and werewolves and poltergeists.

Rebecca replaced the book, feeling around in the bottom of the bag, her hand closing around something plastic this time. She inspected the cell phone she had just withdrawn from the bag, flipping it open with little hesitation before listening to the unheard messages.

"You have four unheard voice messages," an electronic voice chirped in Rebecca's ear. She pressed a button to listen to the first one. A young man's concerned voice met her.

"_Hey Dad. It's been a week and I feel like I'm chasing my tail here. I'm still in New Mexico. I don't know where to look. Thinkin' about heading out to Arizona. But Sammy could be anywhere. I just really wish I wasn't -_" Rebecca skipped ahead to the next message. The same voice greeted her, sounding more panicked than concerned at this point: "_I'm in Arizona now. Just thought I'd let you know. Still haven't found him but I'm looking. Um, call me back if you get the chance. Okay, thanks._"

The next message played. "_Hey Dad. I found him. We're headin' back to Ohio. We'll be back in a few days. It'd be great if you could actually call me back._" Panic had been replaced by agitation which become even more apparent by the last message. "_This is the last time I'm gonna call. Sammy and I are back at the house. So, uh, we'll see you when we see you, I guess._"

Rebecca hung up the phone and put it back in the bag with a shake of her head. She took one last look through John's bag before discarding it on the floor.

* O *

"Needle in a fuckin' haystack," John muttered to himself as he trudged through the woods again, this time alone. The words barely had time to leave his lips when thunder rolled above him and rain began to fall, making its way down through the barren winter trees and splattering him. "Great," he grunted, ignoring the rain and walking deeper into the woods. He ignored it for as long as he could but it wasn't long before the rain was falling so thick and fast that he could no longer see a foot in front of his face.

He ran back to the car, soaking the driver's seat as he got in. He turned the ignition when a voice sounded in his ear, startling him so badly he nearly snapped the key in half. "Who knew a little baby could cause this much trouble for ya, huh Johnny?" Kelly's voice was smug, as was her body language from where she sat in the passenger's seat beside him.

"Did you do this?" John asked, gesturing to the rain pounding against his windshield.

"Oh sweetie," Kelly said condescendingly. "As much fun as it is to meddle in your life, I control _people_, not the weather. The rainstorm's just a fluke." John studied her suspiciously. "Oh, come on John, relax every once in a while. Hell, in a few days when the storm clears I'll help you find your body. It shouldn't be too hard to dig up, considering all this rain's washing everything away."

"What's in it for you?" John asked.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "What is it with you Winchesters? _So_ untrusting. Like I was telling Dean, not everyone has an ulterior motive."

"Yeah, but _you_ do."

"Maybe. But nothing as sinister as I'm sure you're thinking. Really," she assured him. "I'm just bored. It's time for you to move on to your next hunt."

"My next hunt is you," John reminded her.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, we'll see."

* O *

"Can I let you off here? I don't wanna get stuck behind a bunch of school buses," Dean said as he slowed the Impala to a crawl a few yards behind a row of yellow buses that were turning into the semi-circle in front of Harrison High School.

"Yeah, that's fine," Sam said, shouldering his backpack and opening the car door.

"Go to the office for your schedule," Dean called. Sam nodded before swinging his legs out of the car, getting up and slamming the door behind him. Dean watched his little brother disappear into the crowd of students milling about outside. "Oh, they grow up so fast," he muttered dryly under his breath before peeling out from behind the buses and driving away.

Sam fell in step with the sea of students entering the building, breaking off from the main throng in order to go to the main office which was just off the entrance hall. He was given his schedule with locker number and combination and directed to homeroom 203.

He took a seat at the back of the classroom, quietly dropping his bag beside him and looking around the room as it began to fill with students. He thought of his brother, driving back to the Wright house by himself. He thought of his father, off on a hunt somewhere Sam didn't know where.

"- And it looks like we have a new student, Samuel Winchester." The teacher's voice broke through his thoughts. "Welcome Samuel."

"Sam's fine," Sam said quietly.

"Welcome Sam," she corrected herself with a friendly smile towards him.

"Thanks."

_- A/N: Woot! 100 Chapters! I can't believe it. Not that this was a particularly exciting chapter but it's still a milestone number. Congratulate me, guys! lol. More soon. Comments/Reviews pretty please!  
~aep _


	101. Communication

**101. Communication**

John squared his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he made his way back to the motel, windshield wipers working furiously against the pouring rain.

"Wow John," Rebecca said the moment he had entered the room.

"What?" John asked, confused by her cold tone.

"Oh, nothing. Here I was thinking that you were just some loner on a hunt but you're not." John looked at her quizzically. She plowed on. "It's just a little ironic that your current case is all about a kid crying out to its parent over and over and it looks like your own has been doing the same thing."

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"Someone's been calling you about 'Sammy'," Rebecca said.

"What about Sam?" A knot wound tightly in John's stomach at Rebecca's next words.

"Apparently he's been found and -"

"Is he alright?" John cut across her.

"Sounds like he's fine." The knot loosened. "But you'd know that if you answered your phone when your son called you."

"Look, I've had my hands full with this case and with _you_. I'm sorry if you're morally outraged that I didn't give Dean a call every five minutes to check up on him in his search for his brother but he can handle himself. I have to keep my focus on the hunt. It's the only way I know how to get it done."

Lightning flashed outside, followed by a boom of thunder and the lights in the little room flickered. "You had no right to go through my phone. My life is none of your business," John muttered after a moment.

"I make my living looking into things that are none of my business," Rebecca replied.

"Yeah, well you're not getting paid right now so stay out of my things." John grabbed his bag from off the floor and stomped out of the room and back into the cascading rain.

* O *

Sam made his way to the last class of the day: math. When the bell had rung Mr. Adams, a stout man with a shiny bald patch and a reddish complexion, took attendance from his desk, pausing for a moment on Sam to welcome him to the class. He stood when he had finished roll call and straightened a stack of papers against his round belly.

"Pop quiz."

A smattering of groans could be heard from a few of the students. Mr. Adams passed out the test and told the class they had thirty minutes to complete it. Sam breezed through the problems, finishing before most of the other students and with enough time to recheck his work.

"Alright. Time's up. Everybody put your pencils down and pass your test to the neighbor on your left." A chorus of rustling papers filled the room as the tests were moved from one student to the next. The girl on Sam's right passed her quiz to him while he handed his quiz to the boy on his left. "Get out a pen to correct the test in front of you." Again, the students did as they were told. Mr. Adams went through the answers, stopping to explain a few in depth by plotting out the steps on the blackboard behind his desk.

"Put the score at the top and pass the papers to the front," Mr. Adams said as he erased the board to write down the homework assignment. The bell rang a moment later and the students packed up their binders and began to surge from the room, eager to get out of school for the day.

Sam approached the teacher. "Excuse me, sir?" Mr. Adams looked up from the stack of tests on his desk and smiled at Sam.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm new and I don't have a textbook." Sam gestured to the homework assignment on the board: _Pg. 341-342, Problems 1 through 80_. Mr. Adams nodded and pulled open a drawer in his desk, grabbing a beat-up book and scribbling Sam's name down in the front cover under a long list of previous owners. He handed it to Sam. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Put a cover on it by the end of the week."

"Yes sir," Sam said with a nod as he walked from the room. He had barely stepped out into the hall when a voice made him stop.

"Hey, wait up. Sam, right?" The boy who had graded Sam's paper poked his head out from the classroom door as Sam made to walk away with the last few students.

Sam paused in the hallway, turning back to the classroom and the boy standing in the doorway. "Yeah, I'm Sam."

"I'm Scott," the boy said with a little smile, wiping a few strands of sandy brown hair out of his eyes. He paused before speaking again, furtively looking both ways and watching as the students cleared the halls. When the majority of people had disappeared he cleared his throat. "You got a hundred on that quiz on your first day in. Not a lot of kids could do that in Mr. Adams's class. So, um, I was kinda wondering if… Do you wanna join mathletes?" he said quickly, stumbling over his words slightly.

Sam bit his lip, freezing for a moment before quickly shaking his head and turning on the spot to walk away. He could practically hear Dean's mocking voice in his ear. _Mathletes? Really, Sammy? You need to solidify your place in the Geek Hall of Fame? Wow -_

"Wait!" Scott cut through Sam's thoughts, banishing Dean's voice from his head. Sam turned back around and studied Scott for a moment, a little lanky and awkward but good-natured.

"It's not as dorky as it sounds," Scott assured Sam who raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay, maybe it is but y-you might like it. Everyone's really nice and it'll look good on college applications."

"I'm new. I don't know if I want to establish myself as a nerd right off the bat," Sam said as nicely as he could.

"Hey, nerds are in. It's the age of computers. Nerds are in high demand," Scott said with an earnest nod. Sam smiled in spite of himself.

Sam squinted as he exited the school, scouting out the Impala in the packed parking lot. A horn honked loudly and he turned to find the source of the sound. Sure enough, at the far end of the lot he could just make out Dean sitting in the driver's seat. Sam started walking towards the car. Dean beeped the horn again and Sam quickened his pace.

He barely had time to take off his backpack and close the door when the Impala was in motion, blazing out of the parking lot and onto the road that led to the outskirts of town where the Wright house lay.

"So," Dean cleared his throat. "How was your first day of school?"

"Uh, good," Sam said, surprised by the civility in Dean's words, despite the forced tone they came wrapped in. The sky above them darkened, the clouds getting heavier the further from town they got. Within minutes, rain had begun to fall, lightly at first but by the time they reached the house it was a downpour.

The two boys ran from the car and into the house, shaking out their wet hair and stripping off their jackets, already soaked even though they'd only been out in the rain for a few seconds.

Sam's eyes wandered over Dean's wet shirt and the way it contoured to his form. He tore his gaze away and muttered about needing to get his homework done before heading upstairs.

Dean sighed as he watched his little brother climb the stairs, his back hunched as if he could feel older boy's eyes on him. Dean chewed on his lip absentmindedly as he wandered into the kitchen, feet treading the familiar path to the pantry. He opened the flimsy door and leaned down, pushing aside the old bag of flour on the floor and grabbing up the tiny journal. He held it in his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of it before opening to a random page.

_I want him gone. I want him dead. Then it'd just be me and Eric and everything would be okay. Well, it wouldn't be okay. But it'd be better. Right?_

_I don't know. I don't know if things would really be better if both our parents were dead. But I do know that each day I picture him dying. Picture me killing him. In a thousand different ways. And it feels so good to watch it play out in my head but then reality comes whooshing back and he's standing right in front of me - alive and well. All greedy eyes and hungry fingers._

Dean closed the little book, squeezing it in his hand as he thought over what he had just read. The burden he felt for his feelings for Sam and for having John as his father seemed so insignificant in comparison to this peek into Kelly's childhood. He put the book back in its hiding place, trying to shake the familiar sick feeling he got in the pit of his stomach from reading Kelly's old diary.

_And yet… wondering about Kelly's fucked up life is still better than dealing with your own,_ Dean thought to himself.

* O *

Tara followed Jack into the little kitchen and set the groceries down on the table. "I'll start unpacking all this. You go check your mail, 'kay?" Jack said. Tara nodded, gladly leaving the kitchen and grabbing the tiny mail key that hung from a hook by the front door. She made her way downstairs and into the apartment building lobby. She came to stand in front of the rows of mailboxes set in the wall and unlocked the little metal box on the end that was hers. She had to tug a few times to get at all the letters that had been jammed in there since she'd last checked it.

"Alright, good. Let's sort through this," Jack said, nodding to the pile of letters in Tara's hands as she reentered the kitchen. He put away the last few food items and sat down at the kitchen table. Tara took the seat beside him and set the letters down. Jack slid them towards him, starting up a quiet mantra as he sorted through them. "Junk mail, junk, junk bill, bill, bill, junk, bill, junk, junk. Ooh, an actual letter… and another piece of junk."

When Jack had finished separating the mail into piles Tara grabbed up the small tower of spam mail and catalogues and ripped them before taking them over to the trash in the corner. One slid from her hand and to the floor. She bent over to pick it up but froze when her eye caught on something brown under the sink.

"I'm sensing a disturbance in the force," Jack said when she had been frozen for a few seconds. "What is it?" he asked, leaning his chair back a little to try to see what she was looking at.

"Blood. Hers. Diane's. Just a little, but it's there, under the sink." Tara pointed to the spot that had caught her attention.

"Oh, Tare -"

"I-It's okay. I just," Tara cleared her throat in an attempt to keep it from shaking, "I just thought I had gotten it all. Guess I missed a spot," she added the last part in a whisper, staring intently at the little brown stain before her.

The wooden chair legs scraping against the linoleum floor as Jack stood up brought her to her senses. She looked around, mildly surprised to find that she was sitting on the floor. Jack knelt down beside her, laying a warm hand on her back. "Come on, Tare. Why don't we move to the living room?" he asked gently.

Tara shook her head. "No, I, uh, I gotta clean this up." She could tell Jack was about to protest so she headed him off. "Let me just clean this one spot and then we can move to the living room and deal with all the bills, o-okay?"

"Why don't I clean it while you take the bills to the living r-?"

"No. I have to take care of this," she said firmly, despite the quiver in her voice. Jack nodded slowly and stood, gathering up the mail and leaving the room. Tara stared at the stain for another moment before slowly standing and grabbing some paper towels. She wet them and squeezed a little dish soap onto them before leaning back down and rubbing at the spot. When it wouldn't lift she scrubbed at it, her vision becoming obscured by the unshed tears swimming in her eyes.

She finally managed to make the stain disappear. She squeezed the moist paper towels into a little ball in her hand and held it there for a minute before standing again and dropping it in the trash. She rinsed her hands at the sink, drying them on her pants before walking into the living room to find Jack poring over a number of opened bills.

"You okay?" he asked, looking up at her as she came to stand in front of the coffee table where the bills were spread out.

"N- Yeah. I'll be okay."

"_Nyeah?_" Jack repeated skeptically.

"Oh, shut up," she said as she took a seat next to him on the couch and punched him lightly on the arm.

* O *

John drove for a moment before forcing himself to park the car on the other end of the lot. The rain was too heavy to see anything. He let out a long, slow breath before reaching into the bag in the passenger seat and pulling out his cell phone. He went through and listened to the messages that Rebecca had helped herself to. He closed the phone, squeezing it tightly and pressing it against his lips for a few minutes before opening it again and dialing Dean's number.

It barely had time to ring once before Dean's breathless voice answered. "Dad?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's me," John said. "I got your messages. I'm working a job at the other end of the state right now but I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," Dean said.

"I'm, uh, I'm glad you got Sam back safe," John said gruffly.

"Me too."

"Right. Well, I gotta go," John said, absentmindedly scratching a spot on his chin and staring at the windshield as it was pounded with rain.

"Yes, sir. B-" John hung up and stashed the phone back in his bag.

* O *

Dean snapped his phone shut and put it on the kitchen counter, gazing at it as if hoping his father would call back. He wasn't sure how he felt after John had finally reestablished contact with him: relieved or just disappointed?

_- A/N: Sorry I didn't get this out last week but I've been hearing from a lot of you that y'all prefer longer chapters and I thought I'd like to give myself the time to write just that. Tell me what you think. Do you mind the wait if the chapters are longer? (Even though this chapter wasn't significantly longer than my usual.)  
Anyway, happy late Halloween! Love you guys._

_And side note: the lovely Sylvia has rather strong opinions about this story and has started voicing them in the form of rant vlogs which I will be posting online when I get the chance. I'll let you know when they're up on youtube.  
~aep _


	102. Stuck

**102. Stuck**

Dean knocked loudly on the door then entered before his brother could say anything. He flicked on the light. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sam sat up in bed, wincing a little from the sudden burst of light. "Sam, school's canceled because of the rain. Flood warning and all that," Dean said from the doorway.

"What? How do you know?" Sam asked.

"It was on the radio," Dean said with a shrug before leaning against the door frame. Sam could tell Dean was going for a casual look but his arms were crossed in front of his chest a little too tightly to pull it off.

Sam sighed and went over to the window where he could see the rain still falling, drops of water the size of marbles. "It's not that bad," he muttered.

"Um, yeah, it is actually," Dean said. "The field around the house isn't a field anymore. It's a friggin' marsh."

Sam stepped away from the window and sank into a sitting position on his bed. His face looked so crestfallen that Dean almost felt bad for him. "Geez, Sammy. Don't worry about it. It's not the end of the world. Just do some extra credit crap or stick your nose in a book or something. Keep yourself busy 'til school's back in session." Dean walked from the room, leaving Sam sitting alone.

* O *

The sun was desperately trying to break through the clouds after three days of pouring rain. It managed to cast a weak gray-orange glow over everything. But the sky was still so dismal that it barely afforded any hope of true light illuminating the gloom all around.

John slowed the car down as he navigated the muddy road that led to the bridge. He could feel the tires sinking into the earth as the car traveled down a slight hill. He reached the clearing between the bridge and the woods and parked the car. Kelly's sudden appearance at his side hardly surprised him.

"So, Mr. Winchester, how do you feel with this hunt's end looming in sight? Excited or frustrated that it's taken you this long?" Kelly asked, leaning forward and holding an invisible microphone to John's face in her best imitation of a reporter. John got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. His boots sank into the thick mud the moment they touched ground.

"You're not really gonna ignore me and hope I go away, are you? That's so second grade," Kelly said, suddenly standing in front of him. John squared his jaw and walked right through her, a sensation of biting cold gripping him as his body passed through her incorporeal form. His boots sank deeper and deeper into the mud with each step he took towards the edge of the woods.

"Come on, John." Kelly batted her eyelashes sweetly. "Let me help you. I already know where the body is. I can lead you right to it. And then you can get home to your sons."

"Fine. But if you aggravate me or turn this into a wild goose chase, I'll -"

"You'll what, John? You're not exactly the one with the power here. It's not like you haven't tried to get rid of me before. And we all know what a success that was." Kelly smirked.

"Yeah, well, we did manage to get rid of your brother now, didn't we?" John reminded her. Her smile faded and anger flashed in her eyes but she blinked and suddenly those eyes were devoid of any discernable emotion. She resumed smiling.

"Yes, John. You did at that," she spoke slowly, her voice measured and her expression taut. "But don't worry. I'm not trying to lead you on, I promise," Kelly said condescendingly, raising her right arm in a pretend pledge.

"Right, because a promise from you is so reassuring," John muttered.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Just follow me." She stepped into the woods and John went after her.

* O *

Though the rain had stopped late Thursday evening, school was still canceled the next day due to the fact that the roads were buried under several inches of water. By Sunday Sam was climbing the walls. He stared out the window at the weak gray light and snapped his history book shut. In his desperate attempt to keep himself busy he had nearly read the entire textbook in the days off from school. And while it was only him and Dean in the house he had hardly even seen his brother who had taken to sleeping downstairs on the sunken, discolored couch that resided in the dark living room.

Sam wandered from the bedroom, stopping hesitantly at the top of the stairs when he heard the creaking of a door below. He crept down the steps, landing lightly on the floor before quietly walking down the hall and peeking into the kitchen where he saw his older brother sitting against the cabinet under the sink. The pantry door was ajar and Dean was holding a little book in his hand. Sam studied his brother for a moment, watching the intent expression on his face and all the subtle muscle twitches that occurred as he read on.

"What are you reading?" Sam asked, finally stepping into the kitchen and addressing his brother.

Dean snapped the book shut and stood. "Nothing," he said, his jaw set and his fingers gripping tightly to the journal. Dean knew Sam was about to speak again but he cut him off. "Mind your own business, Sam. It's nothing you need to worry about. Go make sure all your shit's together for school tomorrow."

Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I've already done that like twenty times."

"Well do it again. You wanna go to school tomorrow, don't you?" Dean barked.

"Just because Dad's not here it doesn't mean you get to take his place. Don't order me around."

"Well, I'm in charge when Dad's not here. So deal with it." Sam glared at Dean for a few seconds before turning away and heading back upstairs.

"Dammit," Dean whispered under his breath as he listened to Sam's retreating footsteps. He leaned against the counter and sighed.

* O *

Kelly came to stand by a large pine tree and pointed to the muddy ground at her feet. "Dig," she told John. He gripped the shovel in his hands tightly before sinking it into the wet earth. In less than a minute the shovel hit something hard. "Pay dirt," Kelly said softly. John swept away a layer of mud to reveal a skull. He kept working until he had unearthed the complete skeleton of Natasha Ancore. He stared down at the remains as he pulled a large black trash bag from his coat pocket and unfurled it.

John knelt down and began collecting Natasha's bones, stuffing them unceremoniously into the plastic bag. "Wow." John looked up at the sound of Kelly's voice to see her with her arms crossed in front of her chest and one eyebrow raised so high it was almost hidden by her bangs. "Lot of respect you have for the dead there, Johnny boy," she said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't have time to fashion a proper casket," John snarled to her as he continued to stuff the muddy bones in the bag. The light was fading fast as John grabbed the last few bones and shoved them into the bag. He stood, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before walking off the way they had come. Kelly followed after him silently. John pulled a thick flashlight from his pocket with his free hand and flicked it on, shedding light on his path.

John unlocked the trunk of the car and stashed the bag in it. "I thought you were going to reunite the sack of bones with its baby," Kelly said, eying John as he closed the trunk.

"That's the plan. But I want Rebecca there when it happens."

"Aw, that's so cute. You have a little hunting partner that you want to share this experience with," Kelly said with a condescending smile.

"Right. That's it, of course," John said sarcastically as he went around to the driver's side and opened the door. "It isn't that I need to be sure that the damn kid is gone once I dump her mom's bones in with her," he sat down and slammed the door shut, shoving the keys in the ignition and starting the car up. Kelly appeared at his side, comfortably seated in the passenger's seat again. John continued. "And since I'm a man and can't fuckin' see her, Rebecca is kind of a necessary part of this little operation." He put the car in drive and took off.

John parked outside of the motel room and turned to Kelly. "Alright, thanks for your help but now it's time for you to leave."

Kelly slapped a hand to her chest dramatically. "John, I'm hurt. I was so hoping you'd properly introduce me to your special lady friend!"

"Get out," John growled.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll see you later, Johnny." She gave him a little satisfied smirk before fading into nothingness.

* O *

Tara watched as Jack took his cell phone from his pocket, pulling out the little antenna and flipping open the receiver so he could dial in the number to the phone company. He held the phone bill tightly in his hand. "I don't want to talk to a recording, give me a real frickin' person," he mumbled into the phone. Tara smiled and shook her head at her friend.

"Yes! Hi, I'm calling on behalf of my friend. She's missed her last payment due to a death in the family. I'm sending in a check right now but in the meantime her phone needs to be reinstated." He read off Tara's account number from the phone bill in his hand. "Yes, great. Yeah. Thank you." He hung up, pushing the antenna back down into the phone and closing it before looking at Tara. "Your phone should be back on by tomorrow morn-" The room was plunged into sudden darkness. "What?" Jack muttered.

"Electricity. I'm kinda surprised that it didn't go out sooner," Tara said with a little shrug that Jack couldn't see in the darkness. "I'll go get some candles."

* O *

The light was fading from the sky and Sam couldn't stand to be inside the house any longer. He slipped on his jacket and stepped into his boots, tying each one tightly before walking downstairs and out the door. He nearly slipped on the icy front steps, but he managed to navigate his way down them without falling. He stepped into the yard that was now hidden under ice. He walked slowly across it, seeing his breath rise before him in the cold. He glanced at the Impala that was parked under the shade of the barn a little ways up from him on the left. He continued walking straight ahead, leaving the car behind and moving down the slight slope of the field.

"Come on, already. I'm ready for spring now. It's almost April," he muttered as he walked, watching as more of his breath rose like smoke in the air. He took another step and broke through the ice, feet landing in a few inches of freezing water and soaking his boots, inside and out. "Son of a bitch," he muttered Dean's catchphrase in frustration.

The icy water flooding into his boots made him shiver but he kept walking, continuing down the slope, each new step punching another whole through the ice and soaking his feet all over again.

"Hey!" He heard Dean's voice and turned around. "Hey, where the hell are you going?" Dean called as he walked towards Sam, sliding his arms through his coat as he advanced. He stopped short of the first hole Sam's boots had punched through the ice. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Just for a walk," Sam said. He could see the disbelieving expression etched on the older boy's face. "I'm not running away again. I don't even have anything with me-e," his teeth chattered on the last word and Dean looked down at Sam's boots, submerged in water.

"Okay, great. So you're not running away again. But you fucked up your only pair of shoes. It's gonna take forever for them to dry out and you can't go to school like that tomorrow," Dean said, the annoyance in his voice ringing loud and clear.

"Stop trying to be my father," Sam said, clenching his jaw tightly to keep his teeth from chattering again.

"I'm not your father. But I _am_ your big brother and I still need to watch out for you. So stop bitching at me and get inside before you get frostbite your toes fall off." The two of them stood there, facing each other defiantly. Finally, Sam shook his head slightly and walked past Dean and back towards the house.

"Take your shoes and socks off right now and go upstairs," Dean told Sam as he closed the front door behind the both of them. Sam grudgingly did as he was told, stumbling up the stairs a little due to the numbness in his feet. Dean followed him for a few steps before moving in front and running up the stairs. He walked down the hall and flicked on the bathroom light. "Come on," Dean said. Sam walked into the bathroom, once again trying to hide the chattering in his teeth. Dean turned the faucet in the tub and put the stopper in as water began to fill it. He adjusted the temperature until both of them could see steam rising from the bath.

"Put your feet in," Dean ordered. Sam would have argued if it wasn't for the fact that his feet had already lost all color and were going from gray to a light shade of blue. He sat on the edge of the tub and swung his feet into the water. It took a moment for both the feeling and color to return. He flexed his toes in the hot water before turning the spout off so the bath wouldn't overflow. He turned his head to see Dean stretching out his dripping socks and laying them across the little heater that stood against the wall.

Dean could see Sam watching him from the corner of his eye as he put the sopping boots on the heater upside down. "How are your feet?" he asked.

"Fine," Sam answered shortly, looking away from Dean and focusing on his feet as he moved them in the water, creating ripples.

"God, you're such an idiot, Sam," Dean muttered. Sam didn't reply for a moment.

"Guess it runs in the family," he finally said softly.

"Yeah, well, maybe," Dean murmured under his breath. He cleared his throat. "These won't be dry by tomorrow morning," he tapped one of the shoes on the heater. "So you can wear mine for the day."

"But Dean -"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, cutting his little brother off. "It's pretty simple. You kinda need to wear shoes to school and it's not like I wear my boots around the house. So just wear 'em until yours are dry. They're only like a size bigger anyway." Sam made to protest again but Dean held up a hand to stop him as he grabbed the door handle and swung it open, stepping from the bathroom.

He turned back for a second, a little smile flitted across his face. "Oh, and Sammy? If you fuck up my shoes, I'll kill you."

_- A/N: Once again, this chapter is only two or three pages longer than my usual but I hope it was still worth the wait. Love you guys! Tell me what you think. Also, I know things haven't been overly Wincest-y as of late but keep hope, gentle readers. More naughty brother love will be coming your way in the not-too-distant future.  
Oh, and here are the links to Sylvia's rants on chapters __100__ and __101__:_

_Chapter 100 - youtube [dot] com [slash] watch?v=3UMXhDNJtBY_

_Chapter 101 - youtube [dot] com [slash] watch?v=JmsXWdwtge4_  
_~aep _


	103. Family Reunion

**103. Family Reunion**

John knocked on the motel room door before unlocking it. He had seen Rebecca's jeep in the parking lot but he was still a little surprised to see her still there after their argument. She didn't greet him as he entered the room. He cleared his throat. "I need you to come to the bridge with me."

"I thought you didn't want me there," Rebecca said.

"Yeah, well, I need you there."

The sky was pitch black as the car pulled into the clearing before the bridge. "Are you ready?" John asked. Rebecca nodded and got out of the car. John went around back and grabbed the bones before following her out onto the bridge.

"I hear her crying," Rebecca said softly. She looked over the edge of the bridge, once again her eyes caught on something only she could see. "She's right there," she pointed to a spot directly beneath where they stood. "Andrea's right there."

"Good. It's time for her to see her mother again." John opened the trash bag and upended it over the side of the bridge. The bones fell down into the creek, splashing as they hit the water.

"Oh God, her mom's skull went right through her," Rebecca whispered.

"What's happening now?" John asked. But before Rebecca could answer the child flashed into sight, suddenly visible to John as she hovered on the water below. He heard her cries bloom in his ears before dying out. Her tiny hands were clutching her mother's skull.

"Nothing's happening. She's just sitting there," Rebecca said softly.

"I know. I can see her now," John muttered, eying the baby below intently. Rebecca walked off the bridge and made her way carefully through the icy mud until her feet were mere inches from the water's edge. "What are you doing?" John called after her, sliding a little in the mud as he came up behind her, grabbing her arm to keep her from doing something stupid.

"Let go," she whispered. "It's okay." John held onto her for another minute before releasing her slowly. She pulled something from her pocket. John looked down and saw it was a copy of a newspaper clipping on Natasha Ancore's disappearance back in 1967. A grainy picture of Natasha was visible above the article. Rebecca turned to look into his eyes before nodding and stepping into the freezing water. "Wait here." She held up a hand to him before he could go in after her. He watched as she waded through the water, carefully holding the paper high so as not to get it wet. She reached the middle of the creek where John could see the baby still clutching her mother's skull.

John could barely hear Rebecca's hushed voice over the trickling of the water but he just managed to make it out. "Hi Andrea." The baby looked up at Rebecca. "Hi sweetie. You're holding your mommy in your hands. I'm sure she's missed you a lot. But you don't have to keep looking for her now. She's here with you." Rebecca held out the Natasha's picture to the ghost. The child's grip on the skull slackened until it had fallen from her little fingers and sunk down to the bottom of the creek. She reached for the picture, fingers slipping right through it. She tried again and this time she was able to take it from Rebecca. The baby stared intently at the photograph before looking down to where the mess of Natasha's bones were just visible under the water.

Andrea began to cry again, so loud that John's ears ached from it and he could only imagine how Rebecca felt being right beside the child. He watched as the baby continued to sob, slowly sinking into the water until her cries were drowned out. A flash of light illuminated the water. Rebecca gasped and swam a few feet back in surprise as the ghostly form of Andrea's little body caught fire beneath the surface of the water. The flames shot up into the air before they were extinguished. Rebecca moved a little closer to the spot where Andrea had been a second ago and fished something out of the water, it was the picture of Natasha, soaked and nearly disintegrating in her hand.

Rebecca stared at the picture for a moment before turning to John and making her way back to him. He helped her out of the water and after a few seconds Rebecca spoke quietly. "Sh-She's gone."

* O *

Sam's feet slid around a little in Dean's boots as he walked to and from his classes. Scott approached Sam in the lunch line. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," Sam replied as he grabbed a tray and put a styrofoam plate loaded with burnt macaroni and cheese on it.

"Quality foodstuffs," Scott said as he eyed Sam's food with distaste.

"Yeah, not so much," Sam said with a little laugh. He grabbed a little carton of milk and some plastic utensils and paid the woman at the cash register before turning to Scott.

"Do you wanna come sit with me? Meet some of the other mathletes?" Scott asked, scratching his forehead and gesturing to a table in the back of the cafeteria. Sam nodded. "Freshman and sophomores meet Tuesdays and Thursdays after school for an hour and juniors and seniors meet Mondays and Wednesdays," Scott informed Sam as they walked through the cafeteria. They reached the table Scott had gestured to and sat down. Scott ran through the introductions. Each person gave a little wave to Sam when their name was mentioned. "Sam, meet your fellow freshman mathletes: this is Rob, James, that's Elizabeth and last but certainly not least, Susan." Scott opened his brown paper bag and pulled out a sandwich.

"I had a friend named Susan at the last school I went to, back in Massachusetts," Sam told Susan.

"Cool. Well, welcome to Ohio. I'm sorry if I'm considerably lamer than my Massachusetts counterpart. I mean, everything in Ohio is pretty lame," Susan said with a smile and a shrug before pushing her long brown hair behind one shoulder and taking a bite of her mac and cheese.

"You're not lame," Sam assured Susan. "Well, Ohio sort of is, but you guys aren't." Everyone chuckled.

* O *

"So, then… It's, it's over, right?" Rebecca asked through chattering teeth as she and John stared into the depths of the little creek.

"Yeah, it's over," John said. He put an arm around Rebecca soaking frame and guided her back to the car. Rebecca's hand shot forward to turn the heat on as high as it would go. By the time they got back to the motel her shivering had just barely subsided. John parked the car and turned it off.

"S-So," Rebecca said quietly. "Heading back home to your sons now, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," John murmured. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. They sat in silence for a minute.

"How old are they?" Rebecca asked, hugging herself to keep warm.

"Nineteen and fourteen," John said. He could hear Rebecca's teeth beginning to clack together again as the heat in the car dissipated. "Let's go inside. You can get a hot shower and I'll make sure I'm not leaving anything behind." Rebecca nodded and got out of the car.

John's eyes swept the room as Rebecca took her shower, making sure he hadn't left anything behind. He turned around and was suddenly face to face with Kelly.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, glaring at her.

"Well, hello to you too," she said, arms crossed in front of her chest. "I just came to say 'Congrats'. You finally finished your hunt. Took a little longer than usual." John continued to glare at her but remained silent. "You're not losing your touch, are you? I mean, if I hadn't helped you out…" Kelly smirked. "Well, anyway, what's next on the agenda? Heading straight back home to your boys or are you gonna bone the little reporter first?"

John heard the stream of water from the shower lessen and then cease. "Get the hell out of here, Kelly."

Kelly eyed the bathroom door thoughtfully. "Why so protective of her, John?"

"I'm not. I just don't feel like explaining why the hell some crazy ghost is always comes around."

"Yeah, a crazy ghost that you can't seem to get rid of. That must be a little embarrassing, a little frustrating." She smiled again, her eyes searching his face for something. "But it's more than that, isn't it? You've spent a lot of time on this hunt and she's been with you every step of the way. You've grown attached to her, haven't you?" Her face lit up at the thought.

"Don't you dare hurt her," John whispered, eying the bathroom door, knowing that Rebecca would walk out at any second.

"John, you should know by now that I take a statement like that as a challenge." The doorknob turned but just before Rebecca could walk out Kelly gave a little wave and disappeared.

"Goddammit," John whispered.

"Everything okay?" Rebecca asked John. He looked up to see her wrapped in a towel and drying off her hair with a washcloth as she studied him.

"Fine. I should go but, uh, if you're ever in trouble or anything, call me." He grabbed a motel pen and notepad off the nightstand and scribbled down his cell phone number.

"Should I expect a callback or should I just leave a bunch of desperate messages like your son?" John's jaw clenched as he looked up at her, ripping the piece of paper with his number on it off the notepad.

"Just take it," he said coldly as he held the paper out to her. "Actually, take Dean's number too, for insurance." He scribbled down his son's number below his own and handed it to Rebecca.

"Check out when you're dressed. They already have my credit card on file so just let them know that I'm gone and they'll charge me." And with that he walked out the door, got in his car and drove away.

* O *

"Um, Dean?" Sam asked quietly on the ride home from school that day. Dean chewed on his bottom lip silently while he waited for his little brother to continue. Sam took his cue from Dean's silence and spoke again. "I was wondering if you could pick me up a little bit later on Tuesdays and Thursdays from now on. I'm not sure how long it'll go but I'm guessing not more than an hour or two, at the most."

"What for?" Dean asked, turning the wheel to avoid a slick patch of ice.

"'Cause I'm getting tutoring on those days. You know, to catch up and… stuff," Sam said vaguely.

"Sure, Sammy. Whatever. Just call me when you're ready to be picked up on those days," Dean said as he turned into the icy yard of the Wright house and parked by the old barn.

It was past one in the morning when a light flashed through the kitchen windows, filtering into the living room where Dean was lying on the couch, unable to sleep. He sat up and went over to the window. A car was parking by the Impala and a figure got out. Even in the dark, Dean could tell that it was John. He went over to the front door, opening it as his father approached.

"Sam's upstairs?" John said, not bothering to greet his son. Dean nodded, following after his father. They both climbed the stairs two at a time and went straight to Sam's room. John didn't bother knocking on the door, he just swung it open. Sam looked up from his homework in alarm.

"Dad -" he said with wide eyes.

"Don't talk. I don't wanna hear it. Sam, what you did is inexcusable. Running away from whatever issues you have is cowardly and selfish," John said as he came to stand right in front of Sam who was sitting on the bed. Sam shrank back a little, not daring to look in his father's eyes. "Are you hearing me?" John asked, bringing his face close to Sam's. Sam nodded feebly. "We're a family. If something's wrong you talk to me or Dean! You don't just hitch rides across state lines to hide from your problems." Sam nodded again, still not daring to look at his father. John grabbed his son's chin roughly and forced him to look up. Sam shut his eyes tightly for a second before opening them to finally look into his father's livid face. "Are you understanding me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said quietly.

"Good." John released his son and walked out of the room. Pausing before Dean in the doorway he muttered, "And you, I still can't believe you let him go."

"He didn't let me go anywhere - I snuck out!" Sam said, a sudden spark of defiance lighting within him. He deserved his father's disappointment in him but Dean didn't. "It's not his fault. It's mine so just, just leave him alone," he said as he stood up.

John turned slowly back to his youngest son. "Don't you _dare_ talk back to me right now, Sam."

"Why not? You ever think you should be pissed at yourself for being a crap father? You ever think that maybe your kid wouldn't have wanted to run away if he had a dad that he thought he could talk to? If I had a dad who was actually arou-?" Sam asked, his voice rising with each word he spoke before Dean cut him off.

"Sam, stop it!" Dean yelled over him. Sam glared at the two of them but fell quiet. Silence fell over the three of them, thick and suffocating. Finally John spoke again.

"You know what, Sam? I do what I have to so I can keep you boys safe. You know what's out there. And you going running off into the night by yourself isn't making my job any easier."

"Your job isn't supposed to be easy. Being a parent isn't easy!" Sam shouted.

"And you're not making it any easier!" John yelled back, walking towards Sam, the color rising in his face.

"Stop," Dean said again, stepping between his brother and father. He could practically feel the heat of anger coming off of them in waves. "Just stop!" He turned to his little brother. "Stop talking back, it's not helping anything. And Dad," he turned his attention to John. "He's being a stubborn ass, don't let it get to you. He _is_ sorry for what he did and, and things have been okay the last couple of days. So just… give it a rest for now. Try to cool off."

Dean looked back and forth between the two members of his family, their expressions were nearly identical: clenched jaws, tight lips, furrowed brows. "Don't tell me what to do, Dean," John whispered to his eldest before stalking out of the room.

Sam and Dean watched their father slam the door behind him and turned to each other. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Picking a fight when you're the one who messed up!"

"I guess it's just like you said, I'm a 'stubborn ass'. Now I've gotta finish my homework so why don't you leave me alone," Sam said coldly. He sat back down on his bed and pulled the open history textbook in front of him closer.

"Don't be a dick," Dean said.

"Don't be a doormat," Sam shot back. "It's not your job to comfort Dad. He's a big boy, he can handle it. Where was he when you were freaking out about me?" Sam asked.

"Where were you?" Dean replied. Sam fell silent and Dean made his way over to the door, hand resting on the knob for a minute, glancing back at his brother. "You know, I'm really glad I got you enrolled in school. Now I won't have to see your damn face every waking minute."

Their eyes met for a second before Sam broke away. Dean opened the door and walked through it. The slam of the door closing was so strong Sam could feel the vibrations of it in his body. He pushed his textbook aside and wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his head on them and sighing.

- A/N: And finally… the new chapter is up! Tell me what you think (as always and forever). Thanks for sticking around to read the chapters even though they're coming more slowly now. I've already got a few scenes from the next couple of chapters that I'm working on so I'll get chapter 104 to y'all as soon as I can though my life has become a little crazy as of late. In the meantime, here's Sylvia's next rant:

youtube [dot] com [slash] watch?v=kKTwb5Piq9E

Much love to you guys!  
~aep


	104. Loyalty

**104. Loyalty**

John paced across his room, listening to the raised voices of his sons. "It's not your job to comfort Dad. He's a big boy, he can handle it. Where was he when you were freaking out about me?" Sam said harshly.

"Where were you?" John shut Dean's voice out and took a seat on his bed, sighing and resting his head in his hands.

"Dammit!" he whispered. John had been inches away from slapping his youngest son and he hated it, hated the way his fury could block out the love he knew he had for his children. He blew out a slow stream of air to calm himself before chuckling sadly.

"When did that kid get so fuckin' smart? 'Being a parent isn't easy,' pfft, that's for damn sure," he muttered to himself. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and felt the anger that was rumbling inside of him begin to melt away, replaced by a lethargy that made it hard to move.

He had taken care of his hunt as quickly as possible but he wished he could have been on it for a few more days to avoid returning to his children. Not that that would have done any good, he'd still have to face his sons eventually but as he felt the weight of his body sinking into the old mattress beneath him he knew that yelling at his children wasn't going to solve the rift between them. Still, he didn't know what else to do. He realized he hadn't taken off his coat and finally slid it off, discarding it on the floor at his feet.

John tried to recall the kind of father he had been before Mary's death. He could just barely remember the ease with which he had once loved and cared for his sons. But he didn't know how to get back to that, even if he thought he could.

* O *

"Dad?" Dean said, tapping lightly on his father's door. "I enrolled Sam in school so I'm gonna take him in, alright?"

"Fine," he heard his father say through the door.

"Let's go!" Dean called to his brother, descending the stairs and walking out to the car, not bothering to wait for Sam. He started up the Impala and let it idle while he scrubbed a small patch of frost off the windshield. Sam arrived a moment later, getting into the passenger's seat quietly.

"You need to be picked up late today, right?" Dean asked as he drove down the road. Sam nodded. "Alright, just call me when you're done." The rest of the car ride passed in silence and Sam was glad to escape into school when the Impala cruised to a stop in front of the large brick building.

"Hey Sam!" Scott said as Sam pulled the books he would need for his morning classes from his backpack before shoving the bag into his locker.

"Hey," Sam replied with a forced smile.

"Everything okay?" Scott asked, eying Sam's expression closely.

"Yeah. Family argument but that's nothing new," Sam muttered, a little taken aback by Scott's attentiveness.

"That sucks," he said as he walked beside Sam towards homeroom. "My family is actually pretty mellow so that's not something I really have to worry about. But it sounds like your folks -"

"- Aren't so mellow? Yeah, that'd be an accurate assumption," Sam said as they rounded a corner and entered homeroom, taking seats next to each other in the middle of the class.

* O *

"Um, Mr. Adams, can I use the phone to call my ride?" Sam asked after his first mathlete meet, gesturing towards the corded phone hanging on the wall by the door.

Mr. Adams nodded. "Sure thing, Sam. Just dial nine first. Great work today. Welcome to the team."

"Thanks," Sam said as he walked over to the phone and began dialing his brother's number. The other freshman and sophomore level mathletes filed out of the class, smiling at Mr. Adams and Sam. Susan patted him on the back and gave him a thumbs up.

Sam was about to dial the last number when Scott spoke. "Where do you live? My folks could probably give you a ride home." He leaned against the doorframe, backpack hanging off one shoulder and waving to Susan as she walked away down the hall.

"It's okay. We live pretty far out of the way. Plus, my brother's expecting my call," Sam said.

Scott nodded. "See you tomorrow then," he said with a little shrug before turning to the math teacher and waving. "Bye, Mr. Adams."

* O *

Sam dropped into the passenger seat and had just enough time to close the door before Dean started driving, not bothering to greet him. The familiar heavy silence sat between them like a physical presence. "Um, thanks… for coming to get me," Sam said, exasperated with himself for his lame attempt at conversation.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever. I gotta stop at the store, we seriously need food."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. The silence settled again and Sam glanced over at his brother, the harsh words Dean had told him last night ringing in his head. _'Now I won't have to see your damn face every waking minute.'_ He sighed and worked to not let resentment bubble up in him. Well, I'm sorry then 'cause I know how awkward this must be for you, he thought bitterly. _For both of us._

"Look, I'm sorry I'm always arguing with Dad," Sam said.

Dean glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well then stop doing it. And while we're at it, stop rehashing it with me. I was there, I remember," Dean said as he drove into the little general store parking lot. He parked the car and put the key in his pocket. "'Kay, I'm gonna run in and grab some stuff. You can wait here." Sam nodded and Dean got out of the car. Sam watched his big brother run across the small lot and into the store, walking past the electric doors as they slid open for him.

Dean grabbed a carriage and started down the aisles, grabbing things that required little or no cooking. _Why are you always so angry at him?_ Dean asked himself. _Maybe because he's always doing something to cause trouble,_ he thought as he dumped a few boxes of cereal in the cart. Another voice seemed to chime in; _Or maybe because it's easier to be pissed at him than it is to admit how much you love him._ He grabbed a couple of boxes of mac and cheese and chucked them in the carriage with more force than necessary. _…How much you love him and how much you want him because, face it, you still do._

Dean grabbed a few more items before coming around to the front of the store and getting in the check-out line. _You still want him,_ the words repeated in his head, as real as if he had uttered them out loud. He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself these thoughts and he wasn't sure why he was letting them in now. He silently cursed himself for his lack of mental discipline as he rifled through his wallet to pay the cashier.

* O *

Their boots crunched on the frosty grass as they walked through the park. "Well Miss Berthman, all your bills are paid and mailed out so you are officially a woman free of debt. How do you feel?" Jack leaned forward, holding a pretend microphone out to Tara.

"Right, free of debt except for the money I owe _you_ for helping me pay those bills," Tara said, pushing his hand away.

"I already told you - you can pay me back when you've got some cash flow again. In the meantime, it's not like I'm collecting interest here." He bumped his hip into hers deliberately. "You got that?" Tara nodded. "Good," Jack said. They walked along in silence for a few minutes, the bare trees casting thin shadows over their faces. "If by some miracle you could get your job back, would you want it?" Jack asked thoughtfully after a while.

Tara blinked. "I-I don't know." She slowed down a bit and Jack matched her pace. "It's not like I'm trying to slack off here or anything but after everything that's happened I'm not sure I'm ready to handle more drama in my life. I mean I miss seeing you everyday and God knows I miss those kids but…" she trailed off, chewing a little on her chapped lips.

"But bottom line, a hospital for abused kids where most of the staff are nearly as abusive as the people those kids had to get away from -"

"- Isn't exactly a place I'm dying to go back to. Right," Tara finished.

"Fair enough," Jack said with a small nod. "But just so you know, those kids miss you a lot too."

Tara sighed, watching as her breath escaped her lips as a little wisp of white smoke. "I don't know what else I would do for a job though. I've never seen myself doing anything other than social work."

"That's because you're so damn good at it."

Tara shrugged her shoulders. The depression she had been in since Diane's death had taken over everything, making it so that the thought of returning to work had barely ever crossed her mind. But as she walked beside her friend she realized just how much she wished she could go back to her job, how much she wished she could go back to helping people. Tara threaded an arm through Jack's and closed her eyes as they continued walking. She could see the face of each teenager she worked with clearly in her head, not just as clients or case numbers but as people she truly cared about. The faces faded but just before she could open her eyes a different face appeared in her head: Dean's.

The last thing she had said to him echoed quietly in her ears._"Listen, Dean. You shouldn't be calling…. I miss you and it's good to hear your voice but until this thing is over, please just don't contact me."_

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asked. Tara could feel his scrutinizing eyes roaming her face. She shrugged again.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Okay, well, this has been a lovely little walk and everything but can we go back home? I'm seriously starting to freeze," Tara said, changing the subject.

"Oh, come on, it's like thirteen whole degrees warmer than last week!"

"Right, which puts the temperature in the thirties, downright toasty," Tara said, her sarcasm as apparent as her breath as it rose in the cold air.

"Damn straight - practically bikini weather," Jack said with a smile. Tara rolled her eyes and steered her friend around the way they had come.

* O *

"You want help putting away the groceries?" Sam asked as he followed Dean into the kitchen, both of them with their arms stuffed with paper bags. Dean shook his head and set his bags down on the formica table in the center of the kitchen.

"No. Just go and start your homework or something," he said, the dismissive note in his voice ringing clearly in the room. Sam placed his bags down on the table as well and turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Sam was sitting cross-legged in bed, completing his last bit of homework when he heard the faint sputtering of the shower. He closed his textbook and leaned against the cool wall, eyes fluttering shut. A few minutes later he heard the familiar tread of his father's boots crossing the hall. "Dean, I'm going out. I'll be back later tonight." John muttered.

"Yes, sir," Sam heard his brother's reply coming from behind the bathroom door. He listened as his father walked back down the hall and downstairs, the front door slamming and the car starting up a minute later. Sam sat there for a moment before rising and slipping his jacket on. He crept out of his room and down the stairs as quietly as possible, thankful for the masking sound of the running shower. He slipped out the front door and walked a loop around the house as the sky above him darkened.

Sam strained to hear any sounds from within the house but couldn't over the wind. He ventured away from the old yellow two-story and made his way towards the barn, walking around to the far side of it, out of sight of the house and leaning against the rough wood. A strong gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes but not before he caught a glimpse of something moving on the periphery of his vision. Before he had time to take a good look at what had moved, it had lunged at him, knocking him down to the ground.

Panic was replaced by bewilderment at the realization that the thing that had attacked him was a dog, one that was currently bathing him in kisses. "Bones?" He had hardly uttered the word when she barked excitedly. He tried to stand but she nearly knocked him down again as she continued to lick him in greeting. "Whoa, whoa, hang on," Sam said, steadying the golden retriever and guiding her towards the entrance of the barn. He slid the door open a few inches, just enough to allow the two of them to sneak in. "How'd you find me?" Sam asked as he closed the barn door behind them, almost expecting an answer from the ecstatic dog.

She barked again. "Okay, okay, shh. Bones, shh," he said, calming her as he knelt down before the dog and ruffled the fur on her head. "What am I gonna do with you?" he asked, half-worried about Dean or John finding out but also touched to see the loyal dog before him. Bones just wagged her tail and licked Sam's cheek. "If Dean sees you he'll flip out. And it's not like I can hide you in here forever." He sat down in front of Bones on the hay-strewn floor. The dog leaned forward and licked Sam's cheek again. "You're such a good girl…. I wish I could keep you," Sam muttered with a sad little smile, ruffling the fur around the golden retriever's neck. "Man, what am I gonna do?" he asked again.

He stood and leaned against the hood of the rusty pickup truck that was being stored in the barn. Bones plodded after him, staring up into his face as she came to sit in front of him. "Did you seriously come all the way from Arizona for me?" he asked quietly. She barked, as if to answer him. He slid down to sit in the cold hay again, taking her head in his hands and petting her affectionately. "I missed you too." He sighed. "But I can't keep you."

Bones rested her head in Sam's lap, puppy dog eyes boring into him. He sighed and glanced at his watch. "I gotta get back inside before Dean notices I'm gone. I'll come back later to bring you something to eat, promise," he murmured into the dog's ear before standing up and backing away. Bones stood and began to follow after him but he held up his hand.

"Stay here. Bones, stay," Sam whispered to the dog, patting her head and leaving her in the barn. He closed the old barn door with a thud and pressed his body against it for a moment, watching his breath rise in the air before him, a little puff of fog.

Sam snuck back into the house, pausing in the entrance hall to hear the shower still running. He breathed a small sigh of relief and slipped his coat off. He hung it on the rack by the door before walking into the kitchen and looking through the cabinets for something he could give to Bones.

"Not bad," Sam muttered to himself as he opened a cabinet to the left of the sink and grabbed a pack of beef jerky that Dean had bought earlier. He pocketed it and left the kitchen, pausing again in the hall. _He's still in the shower? What's he doing in there that's taking him so long?_ he thought as he heard the continued drumming of water upstairs. He shook his head and slid his coat back on before slipping out of the house again. _Wow, Sam, really not something you should be thinking about._

_- A/N: It's been forever since I've updated, I know. Thanks for sticking around. Things have been hectic and I know my writing isn't exactly up to par but the next chapter is already in the works and I think it's better. Happy holidays to y'all!  
Also, I filmed another rant with Sylvia for the last chapter but I haven't had the time to edit it and put it up yet otherwise I'd be linking it in this author's note. I'll have it ready for the next author's note.  
Once again, happy holidays to all you lovely readers. As always, tell me what you thought. In-depth comments are like glorious dark chocolate chip cookies to me. Mmm. You know what to do. Feed me cookies! Anyway… Ciao.  
~aep _


	105. A Lesson

**105. A Lesson**

Sam waved a piece of beef jerky in the air before tossing it for Bones to catch. "I better head back in before Dean notices. I'll come back tomorrow, 'kay?" he said, petting Bones on the head. He folded the bag of beef jerky and shoved it in his pocket before pushing open the barn door just enough to escape through it. He closed it tightly behind him, wincing at the sad little whimpers he could hear Bones making from inside. He held a hand against the rough wood of the door. "Sorry, girl," he whispered.

* O *

Dean rested his palms against the wall of the shower, letting his head fall under the stream of warm water. It had been so long since he had allowed emotions besides anger in that now he was overcome by them. The simple realization that all of his interactions with his brother lately had been laced with much more than annoyance and frustration was disappointing. Disappointing because it meant that no matter how disciplined he was, those feelings were still there, just under the surface, and would always be there. He felt utterly drained at the thought.

"Fuck," he whispered, closing his eyes and trying to set his focus on the steady rhythm of the water raining down on him. _What am I gonna do? I can't keep living like this. Man, I kinda get why Sam ran away from it all. But I can't do that. I can't. I gotta take care of - Stop. Just stop. Stop thinking for five minutes. Just have five minutes of peace?_ he begged himself silently. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to clear his mind. The minutes inched on but he continued to keep his focus on his breathing until all reason and guilt had been forced out of his immediate thoughts.

Dean welcomed the rare feeling of calm that had replaced the worries churning in his head. _In, out,_ he thought to himself, breathing deeply as he reached a hand past the shower curtain to the sink where a bar of soap was lying in a little dish. He ran it under the stream of water and frothed it in his hands. Setting the bar down on the edge of the tub, he began to run his soapy hands over his body in time with his breathing.

Dean's fingers traveled down to his crotch, lingering over the wet curls of hair. He steadied himself by maintaining his focus and energy on his breath instead of letting his mind wander back to the familiar guilt that constantly threatened to take over. _In, out._ He let his fingers weave through the short curls before sliding down his length. He could feel the blood rushing down, making him hard. He pulled his hand away, letting the pressure build before fingering the tip lightly. He bit down on his bottom lip as he took his cock into his hand and began pumping slowly.

Sam appeared to him behind his closed eyelids as he continued to stroke himself. "No," Dean whispered. "Get out of my head. Go away. Just let me get off. Just let me _not_ think about you for five friggin' minutes," he muttered. Part of him wanted to stop and fully exorcise the image of his little brother from his mind but he was so close that he couldn't stand it. Still sliding his hand up and down, he came, his entire body shuddering at the sudden release. He slid down the wall, out of range of the shower, catching his breath and running a hand over his face. Dean could still see Sam clearly in his head. "Son of a…" he cut himself short, rising and coming to stand under the stream of water just long enough to turn it off and step out of the shower.

* O *

Wednesday after school Sam slipped into the barn the first chance he got. Bones jumped up when she saw him, licking his face affectionately. Sam smiled and pulled the bag of leftover beef jerky from his pocket, unfurling it and ordering Bones to sit. He pulled a bit of jerky out and threw it in the air, watching as Bones caught it in her teeth. Sam took a seat on the cold hay in front of the dog, ruffling her fur and continuing to feed her.

Bones chomped down on the last bit of beef jerky before turning to look at something behind her in the darkness of the barn. Her whole body tensed and Sam squinted to see what she was looking at. It took a moment but a form materialized in the blackness. Sam stood up and took a step back.

"You know, I could snap her little neck in an instant if I wanted to," Kelly said.

Sam tried to hide his surprise at her sudden appearance. "What's stopping you?" he asked, his voice cool.

"Well, I'm not gonna lead your dog across the country to reunite you two only to kill her. Seems a little cruel." She laughed lightly and moved forward to kneel besides Bones.

_Seems exactly like something you would do,_ Sam thought. He took a step closer to Kelly and the dog, his arms folded over his chest. "You brought her here?"

"What'd you think, Lassie here found you on her own? Following, what - her little doggy nose to a place she's never been before? Please, this isn't a family movie," she scoffed and straightened up, taking a step towards Sam. Only a few of inches of space separated them now but Sam refused to back away.

"Then why would did y-"

"Generally, my default answer is that I was bored and had nothing better to do. Which isn't a lie but I've been thinking… I've gotten to know your father recently and of course I know your brother but I haven't really spent any quality time with you."

As Kelly spoke, Bones backed away until she was behind Sam. "Hm, hanging out with a psycho killer's ghost? I think I'll pass," Sam said, drawing strength from the words he spoke and how he could imagine his big brother saying the same thing.

"Ouch," Kelly said, putting a hand to her heart and feigning a hurt expression. She straightened up after a moment, clearing her throat before speaking again. "You don't get to pass. You're not calling the shots here, Sammy." She took another step towards him, her eyes boring into his.

"Don't call me Sammy," he growled, refusing to back away even though she was so close that he could feel the cold coming off of her in waves. It was stronger than the wisps of wind that creaked through the barn; her cold permeated his clothes and bit down against his skin. He tried to focus on Bones' warm breath against the back of his legs.

"Right, only your big brother gets to call you that," Kelly said with a little wink.

"Yup," Sam said matter-of-factly, teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

"What is it with you Winchesters always pretending to be so brave?"

"We don't have to pretend," Sam said. Kelly simply rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. I can appreciate the whole 'fake it 'til you make it' angle," she said with a shrug, her voice light and conversational though her eyes were darkly scrutinizing as they passed over Sam's face.

"So, are you just here to analyze me or is there a particular reason for this 'quality time'?" Sam asked. He pressed his arms tighter to his chest and waited for an answer. She ignored his question and circled around him. Sam felt Bones recoil slightly, her warm body pressing against his legs as Kelly knelt down by the dog again.

"Isn't it amazing the loyalty animals feel? Even after you left her in Arizona she was only too happy to follow me back to you. She didn't trust me but she was so damn hopeful that she'd see you again that she came with me anyway. That's amazing," Kelly said softly, her voice so quiet that Sam had to strain to hear her.

"But it's pointless, just mindless attachment. You understand that, Sam. You have no trouble walking away. Your brother just doesn't get it. He's loyal to a fault, always will be," she paused, stretching a hand out to Bones, who shrank back. "And then he's surprised when he gets burned." She stood again, eyes boring into Sam's. "Boy, is he gonna pine for you when you're gone."

"What do you mean 'when I'm g-'"

"Get rid of the dog."

"No! What do you mean 'when I'm gone'?" Sam asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.

Kelly laughed and shook her head. "I'm not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about. I already told Dean, you two have enough pain coming to you that I don't have to do a thing. I get to sit back and watch it unfold." She caressed Sam's cheek. Her touch was firm and real but the cold that spread from her fingertips wasn't natural. Sam pulled away, instinctively swinging an arm to defend himself from her. It passed right through her, sending shivers through his arm.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm the one in control here, Sammy boy. I can touch you, you don't get to touch me. Got it? Now get rid of the dog or I will."

"You brought her all this way just to tell me to get rid of her?" Sam asked, the incredulity at her petty cruelty etched in his face.

"Pretty much."

"What happened to the whole 'sitting back and watching our crap lives unfold'?" Sam asked.

"I am, I will. But I get bored sometimes. So I make a little of my own entertainment."

"Great. Well, thanks," Sam muttered sarcastically.

"Now I'm gonna say it for the last time, get rid of the dog," Kelly said in a whisper. She stepped back and pointed her finger at Bones who suddenly began to whimper. The dog fell over, her body writhing and twitching in apparent pain.

"Jesus Christ! Stop!" Sam shouted, quickly kneeling beside the dog and laying his hands on her, trying desperately to calm her. "Kelly, stop!" Bones began to howl. "STOP IT!" Sam yelled, staring into Kelly's face, horrified at the little smile he found there. She lowered her hand and Bones stopped howling and writhing. She gave a little whimper, panting heavily as she laid there on the floor. "You sick bitch!" he spat at Kelly. He pulled Bones into his arms gingerly, petting her until her panting subsided and she began breathing normally again.

"Think of this as a little lesson, Sam. You and your brother and your father, you think you're saving people. And you are. I mean, you get to save a couple strangers here and there. But everyone you care about will always be in danger. They'll always get hurt. And you'll always end up alone." Kelly gave him a little smile.

"You're a monster," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"I was an innocent once," she said softly.

"Yeah, well, not anymore," Sam said.

"No, not anymore," she agreed. She fell silent for a minute. "Now, not to sound like the Wicked Witch of the West or anything but next time… I'll kill your precious little doggy. I'll give you a few days to find her a new home, 'kay?" Before Sam could reply, she disappeared.

* O *

"Okay, um, kind of a random question but does anyone want a dog?" Sam asked at the lunch table, his knee bobbing nervously. Susan looked at him quizzically. "I have a pet dog but I can't keep her anymore 'cause, uh, my brother developed allergies. She's a really sweet golden retriever," Sam explained.

"Oh, that sucks. I'd take her but my Dad's allergic too," Scott said, scratching a spot on his chin before taking a sip from his water bottle.

"I've got three cats. Sorry," Susan said with a sympathetic shrug. The other students at the table gave Sam similar answers. Throughout the day he asked other classmates but no one could take Bones. By the time the final bell rang he was more than a little panicked. He grabbed his backpack from his locker and made his way toward the stairs.

"Whoa, Sam, wait up!" Scott called. Sam turned around. "Mathletes today, remember?"

"Oh, uh, right," Sam said with a little nod, following Scott to Mr. Adams classroom and taking a seat at one of the desks. His knee bounced jerkily as the other mathletes filed in. His mind was back with Bones the entire mathletes session and when Mr. Adams declared the meeting over Sam was the first one out the door. He felt more than a little idiotic over being so worried about some dog when Kelly had already killed plenty of human beings but he couldn't help it. He had grown attached to Bones when he felt like he couldn't turn to anybody else and the thought of being killed by some spiteful ghost was brutal.

The Impala was idling at the curb with Dean waiting in the driver's seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music he was blaring. Sam slid into the passenger seat and Dean took off.

Sam tapped out a nervous rhythm against his legs as they drove. He had a nagging fear that he would return home to find Bones dead. Dean parked the car outside of the barn. Sam swung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried into the house, discarding the bag in the hallway and walking back out before Dean had even stepped inside.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked. It was the first thing he had said to his little brother all day.

"For a walk," Sam replied shortly, fully expecting Dean to stop him and question him further. He was surprised but relieved when Dean didn't. Sam waited until his big brother had gone inside before walking towards the barn. He slipped inside and breathed a sigh of relief to see Bones pad over to him, her big brown eyes staring up into his face.

_- A/N: Gah! It's been over a month since I've posted and for that I'm sorry. I've really missed writing and hearing what you guys have to say about said writing. The next chapter will be up sooner than this one was, I promise! In the meantime, please tell me what you think. And once again, I'm sorry this took so long to get posted (and that there's hardly any Sam/Dean interaction)._

_But be nice, my birthday's tomorrow! Yes, January 31st, nineteen years ago I came into this crazy world._

_Life is uber-busy, finally got my permit so I'm driving and I'm also taking my first college course - history of opera. One week in and I'm already about 200 pages behind on the reading (no joke). Oh, also have a recital coming up, a solo at church, a duet and a 6 page monologue to perform all in the next two weeks. So yeah... *breathes deeply*  
Thanks for your patience and general awesomeness.  
~aep _


	106. Goodbyes

**106. Goodbyes**

Sam squared his jaw as he walked downstairs, footsteps muffled by the sound of the shower. He crept into the living room and pulled the cell phone from Dean's coat pocket before discarding the coat back on the sofa.

No one at school had been able to take Bones and calling up some hunter definitely wasn't an option. And while calling Tara for help wasn't his first choice it was the only one he had left. He didn't know who else to turn to. Part of him was anxious to put his trust in Tara when he knew her loyalty was to Dean but he didn't have the time to worry about that. Kelly's flat-out death threat for the dog was looming at him and he knew he had to get rid of Bones before Kelly could carry it out.

He found Tara's number and dialed it quickly, all the while straining his ears to make sure Dean wasn't about to walk in on him. Three rings and then a click. "Hello?" Sam heard Tara's voice ask.

"Tara, it's -"

"Dean?" Her voice was tinged with surprise and weariness.

"No. It's, uh, it's Sam. I know I shouldn't be calling but I didn't know who else to ask," Sam began nervously. "And you can't tell Dean. Please, Tara, don't tell him."

"Calm down. What is it?" Sam rushed through an explanation of Kelly's threat and his predicament with Bones.

"Sam, let me call you back in a few minutes, okay?" Tara said when he had finally finished explaining.

"Alright. Just call back quick. I don't know how much longer I'll have the phone to myself." He hung up, tapping the heavy cell phone against his leg and counting the seconds as they passed. The phone barely had a chance to ring once through when he answered it.

"I'm gonna come down with a friend of mine. I can't keep pets in my apartment but Jack said he could take Bones for you. Alright?"

"Uh, yeah. That's great. When are you coming?"

"It's about a ten hour drive. The soonest we'll be able to get there... uh, probably Saturday night. I'll have Jack call when we're in town. If your brother answers, Jack'll say he called the wrong number. Alright, Sam?"

"Yeah. Tara, thank you so much. _So_much." Sam whispered into the cell.

"Okay, so when you get that call you'll know we're in town. Where should we meet?"

Sam ran a hand through his mess of hair as he thought of a place for them to meet. He described the local grocery store to her and they agreed to meet behind it in the parking lot.

"Alright. See you soon, Sam." The line disconnected and he stashed the phone back in Dean's coat pocket.

* O *

The sun had fallen behind a line of trees, the house darkening considerably within a matter of moments as Sam walked downstairs Saturday evening. He cleared his throat to make his presence known to Dean who was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to the doorway. Dean turned his head and nodded at Sam.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, scratching a spot on his chin. He watched Dean shift uncomfortably as he took the seat across from him.

"Up in his room. Piecing together his next case," Dean said with a shrug before picking up the half-eaten sandwich in front of him and taking a bite. He noticed Sam's knee bouncing against the table, making it shake slightly. They made eye contact and Sam pressed a hand against his leg to steady himself.

"You okay?" Dean grunted through a full mouth. Sam nodded quickly, careful not to eye the coat hanging on the back of the chair Dean was sitting in. He could see the sagging weight of the cell phone in one of the pockets from his peripheral vision. Sam willed it to ring as they continued to sit in silence.

"So Dad's been keeping busy. What about you?" Sam asked, laying his hands out on the formica of the tabletop and studying his fingernails.

Dean shrugged again. "Nothing really. I take you to school, I run errands I come back here. The fascinating life of Dean Winchester, right?" he said sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Sam agreed. The phone rang suddenly, nearly making Sam jump out of his chair.

Dean put his sandwich down and pulled out the phone to answer it. "Uh, I think you have the wrong number, dude." Sam stiffened in his seat, watching Dean closely as he hung the phone up and slipped it back in his coat pocket.

Sam glanced at his watch and bit down on his bottom lip for a moment. "Is it okay if I go over to Scott's? He invited me over to study and I forgot about it 'til now."

"Uh, I guess. You need a ride?" Dean asked.

"No. That's okay. I'm, I'm kind of in the mood for a walk," Sam assured him as he stood up.

Panic flared in Dean's gut for a second. "The last time you went off by yours-"

"I'm not running away," Sam said. He held up a finger and walked from the room, returning a moment later with his backpack. "Take a look," he said, holding the bag out to his brother. Dean studied Sam for a few seconds before grabbing the bag and searching through it. "See? Just my books."

Dean handed the backpack to Sam. "Fine," he said, picking his sandwich back up and watching as his little brother walked from the room. He heard the front door open and close a moment later as he finished his food. He wiped his hands on his pants and stood up, peering out the kitchen window, just barely able to make out the form of his brother walking in the darkness. Sam disappeared behind the barn and Dean stepped away from the window, grabbing his empty plate from the table and dumping it in the sink.

* O *

"We're almost there, Bones," Sam muttered, more to himself than to the dog as she panted at his side while they walked down a deserted road. A few minutes later, Sam was able to make out the streetlights that illuminated the general store's small parking lot. "C'mon Bones," he whispered, patting his leg as he rounded the parking lot and made his way behind the storefront.

A wave of relief and sadness washed over him as he saw Tara step out of the car followed by a tall man with dark blond hair. Tara gave Sam a little smile before wrapping him in a hug. He froze, not expecting the show of affection from her. She released him. "Sam, Jack. Jack, Sam," Tara said. Jack held out his hand to Sam who shook it.

"So that's Bones, huh?" Jack asked with a nod towards the dog.

"Yeah," Sam said. Bones looked up at Tara and Jack in turn, her dark eyes confused. Sam knelt down beside the dog, sheepish for a moment before abandoning any attempt at looking mature and hugging the animal goodbye. He stood and cleared his throat quietly. "Thank you for taking her for me. I didn't wanna ditch her at some pound or anything."

Tara and Jack nodded. Sam took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the people before him. Jack was a complete stranger to Sam and Tara certainly didn't owe him anything yet here they were, going so far out of their way to help him. Tara's brown eyes shined warmly, even in the darkness. Sam couldn't make out whether Jack's eyes were blue or gray but regardless, they had that same warmth in them.

Tara let out a little puff of air. "Sam, I don't wanna rush you here but we should probably -"

"Yeah, I know," Sam said with nod. He clenched his jaw as he looked down into Bones's big puppy eyes. Jack smiled sympathetically before turning back to his car and opening the back passenger door for the dog to get in. Sam guided Bones towards the car, patting the backseat until she hopped inside. He took a step back and Bones made to follow after him but he slammed the door shut before she could get out. Sam heard her muffled whimper inside the car and sighed.

Tara wrapped Sam in another hug. "I'm sorry you can't keep her, sweetie," she whispered into his hair. He nodded, unable to speak for fear of his voice breaking. She stepped away from him. "We better go. We're gonna spend the night in a hotel a few towns over and then head back home in the morning." Sam just nodded again.

"We'll take good care of her," Jack said, resting a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. He resisted the urge to shrug it off, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

Sam watched them get into the car, waving silently as Jack started it up and drove off. Bones's face peered out from the rear window, her eyes trained on Sam until the car pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the road. Sam blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill and began to walk slowly back to the Wright house.

* O *

"So, you know I don't mind doing this for that kid but are you gonna tell me why?" Jack asked as he drove down the road, casting a sideways glance at Tara. She turned herself to pet Bones in the backseat.

"It's a long story," Tara said.

"We've got another ten hour drive back home. I think you'll have enough time to summarize it for me."

Tara chuckled dryly. "Fair enough. But first we should grab some gas and check in somewhere for the night," she said, eying the red needle hovering over the E on the dashboard's gas gage. Jack nodded, pulling into the first gas station he saw a few minutes later and bringing the car to a stop by the first free gas pump. Jack got out of the car and Bones, who had been silent up until then, began to bark.

Jack leaned back into the car. "I'm going in to pay. D'you want me to grab you anything?" he asked, over the dog's barks.

"I'll take a root beer. Thanks." Jack nodded and shut the car door. "Shh, it's okay Bones," Tara said, unbuckling herself and leaning into the backseat to pet the dog. The barking subsided, giving way to sad little whimpers. "Sh, it's okay girl," Tara murmured soothingly to the dog. Bones quieted down after a moment, her head hanging off the edge of the backseat. Tara gave the dog one more stroke before getting out of the car and leaning against it with a sigh. She shivered at the slight breeze and crossed her arms over her chest.

As much as she trusted Jack she couldn't tell him what was really going on. He would never believe it. She could hardly believe it all herself. Plus, how could she justify helping someone who was partly responsible for her girlfriend's death. _Wow, harsh,_ Tara thought to herself. _But true, isn't it? If you'd never met the Winchester boys you'd never be in this mess and Diane..._She sighed and forced herself not to finish the thought.

The soft rumble of an engine grew closer and she turned around to see a black car gliding into the gas station. She recognized the driver instantly; the short brown hair and handsome features darkened by a furrowed brow. She ducked down as Dean pulled the Impala up to the pump on the other side. She heard the engine cut out and the door open and close. "Shit," she muttered under her breath as, still crouching, she opened her car door as quietly as she could, sliding into the seat and closing the door behind her. She ducked down just as Dean walked around Jack's car to go into the convenience store.

After a few seconds Tara dared to peek over the edge of the door where she could see Dean inside handing a bill to the man at the register. She ducked down just as both Jack and Dean headed for the door. She held her breath as she listened for their footsteps against the concrete, hoping that Jack wouldn't say her name as he got closer.

"Tare, why are you ducked down like that?" Jack asked as he opened her door and handed her the bottle of soda he had gotten her. "Just tired, I guess. Thanks," she muttered quietly, taking the root beer from him and relieved to see that Dean was nowhere in sight. Jack shrugged and shut her door, walking around to the other side of the car to start pumping the gas.

Still slouched down in her seat, Tara craned her neck up to see beyond Jack to the other side of the gas pump. She found herself drawn into Dean's exhausted face. No, it was more than exhaustion, it seemed like some sort of loss of hope.

Tara sighed. She wished she could help him solve all his problems or at least be able to talk to him the way she used to. She sighed again and chewed on her bottom lip as she realized just how much she missed Dean.

She was so lost in thought that it took her a moment to register that Dean was looking straight at her, his brow furrowed in disbelief. He leaned forward slightly and Tara ducked down even further, feeling so childish for hiding from him. But she had promised Sam that Dean wouldn't find out that she had traveled all that way and for what.

She started as Jack opened his door and got in. "Why are you so jumpy?" Jack asked, obviously perplexed by how tense Tara must have looked.

"Just drive and I'll explain it to you once we're out of here," she muttered.

"Okay," he said a little skeptically as he started up the car and put it in drive.

* O *

Dean hadn't even been aware of leaving the gas pump until he was halfway across the lot, staring after the car that had just driven away. "Tara?" he whispered. He shook his head, chiding himself for imagining her. He took a deep breath and walked back to the Impala.

_But why would I make her up now?_ A gas station seemed a random place to picture someone you hadn't seen in a while. Shaking his head again, he made his way back to the Wright house, distracted by the sound of AC/DC blaring from the car radio as he drove. He hummed along, allowing himself to be lulled by the rock music, allowing it to sweep away all this thoughts and let him just focus on the road ahead.

* * *

_- A/N: I find myself apologizing once again for the long wait. As per usual, my real life has interfered with my online one. But here's the next chapter finally. Life is still hectic (but good) which means that unfortunately, my writing is getting pushed to the side a bit so I'm sorry if updates continue to come slowly. Please bear with me. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me for this long. I hope you will continue to. :)  
As always, please review and tell me what you think/feel.  
~aep_


	107. A Betrayal

**107. A Betrayal**

Sam slipped inside the barn, breathing deeply as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He could picture Bones running up to greet him, fur shining in the slivers of moonlight that streaked through the barn. But she was gone. Gone to a good home, but still gone. He let his eyes fall shut as he slid down the door and took a seat against it.

"Isn't it lucky you have such a sweet little friend who really went the mile to help you?" Kelly's voice didn't even surprise him. He opened his eyes slowly to look at her, standing only a few feet away from him. "You okay there, buddy?" she asked mockingly, her head cocked to one side and a fake sympathetic expression playing on her face.

"I'm peachy," Sam muttered through gritted teeth.

"Good," she said, taking a step closer to him. "'Cause it's a little pathetic all the moping and angsting you Winchesters do. It's almost like a sport. And boy, if it was, you'd be winning medals left and right."

"Uh-huh, sure," Sam replied, pausing a moment before adding, "Whereas if you were winning medals they'd be for being a nagging, sadistic, psychotic _bitch_."

Kelly let out a whistle. "Ooh, careful Sammy. 'Cause before you know it, with talk like that, you'll have turned into your brother."

"Right, because that would be the worst thing to happen to me," he said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Touché," Kelly said with a little shrug.

"Wow, letting me off easy tonight, huh?" Sam asked, bracing himself for another tirade about how flawed he was.

Kelly shrugged again. "Nah. I figure your day has been crappy enough, I'll just let you soak in it now. But I wanted to check in, see how you were doing," she said, her eyes almost conveying real concern though Sam knew it was all a joke to her.

"You wanted to check in to see if I was suffering," he corrected her.

"Slight technicality," she conceded with a you-caught-me smile. Sam glared at her. "Well, get to it then!" She gave a smug little wave before fading from sight.

* O *

Dean had reached the end of the tape, a scratchy silence filling the car until he thumbed the tape deck's eject button and flipped the tape over, roughly shoving it back in and waiting for the music to resonate in the car once more. He tapped his left foot in time to the music as it started and took a left down the old dirt road that would lead him back to the house.

He parked the car in front of the old barn, getting out and slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. He heard the keys clink against the cell phone there and he paused for a moment before crossing the yard. He stopped again at the door of the old house, feeling the weight of the phone on his pocket as if it were dragging him into the doorstep and keeping him from entering. _Don't call her,_ he chided himself. _You can't call her. She doesn't want to hear from you, and with good reason._He shook his head and slipped inside, discarding his jacket on the coat rack before walking into the living room and sinking down into the old couch there.

He leaned back against an arm of the couch, resting his chin on his palm and staring at the dull gray curtains that hid the only two windows in the room from sight. He heard the soft click of the door opening and closing and the familiar shuffle of his brother's feet in the entrance hall. He glanced at his watch and saw that Sam had been gone for less than two hours.

"D'you get all your studying done?" Dean called, his tone cool and lazy despite the somewhat maternal words.

Sam started at the sound of his brother's voice calling to him the moment he entered the house. "Uh, yeah. All set," he called back. He stood hesitantly at the foot of the stairs, waiting to see if Dean was going to say anything else.

"Okay. Good," was the only response Sam got. He paused for another second before bounding up the stairs and escaping to his room.

* O *

"Alright, good session everyone!" Mr. Adams said to the mathletes Tuesday afternoon. "Now I've gotta run. Can someone stay to put the chairs up?" Sam raised his hand. "Great, thanks Sam. Good to have you on the team." Mr. Adams gave him a warm smile and walked out of the room with a stack of folders under his arm. The students started to file out after Mr. Adams while Sam began to stack the chairs on the desks.

"Sam?" Sam looked up at the sound of his name to see Scott was still there, just standing by the door. He put a few chairs up on his way over to Sam.

"Thanks. What's up?" Sam asked curiously.

"Sam, I, uh," Scott stumbled over his words as he closed the distance between them.

"What is it?" Sam asked, very aware of the few inches of space that separated them.

Scott opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it. He leaned in closer until their lips were touching in a tentative kiss.

Sam pulled away, stepping back. "Whoa, that's not… I'm not -"

"You're not gay," Scott finished his sentence.

"No," Sam said. "I mean, yeah but…" Before he realized what he was doing, he had moved towards Scott and their lips met again, no longer hesitant. Sam closed his eyes and felt as Scott wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. Part of him wanted to protest and pull away again but the other, stronger part refused to do so. Sam deepened the kiss, wrapping his own arms around Scott so they rested against his upper back. Their lips broke apart and he allowed Scott to guide him towards an empty desk, both boys' arms still around each other as they moved. Sam sat down on the desk and resumed the kiss.

A small pang of guilt hit him, a feeling of betraying his brother and his own feelings for kissing someone other than Dean. But Sam knew how ridiculous it was to feel that way, This was better, this wasn't sick or wrong, this wasn't something that could utterly destroy his family. The momentary flicker of guilt melted away.

He felt Scott's lips travel down to his neck and then collarbone. His mind went blank for once, thoughts of Kelly and Bones had vanished for the first time since he'd seen them last just a few days ago. Sam allowed his hands to roam up Scott's back and into his hair. His body wasn't nearly as muscular as Dean's and his hair was longer. _Jesus, stop thinking about him, stop comparing how he feels to…_Sam let his hands rest in Scott's hair for a moment, getting used to the feel of the longer locks in his fingers before pulling one hand away to lift Scott's chin gently upward. He hungrily planted a kiss on Scott's lips, quivering slightly as he felt Scott's hands slide under his shirt.

"What the hell?" A deep voice made them spring apart and look to the door where the English teacher, Mr. Haynes, stood. "Come with me," he said. Sam got off the desk and shouldered his backpack that was lying on the floor. Scott grabbed his up as well and the two of them followed Mr. Haynes downstairs and into the main office. He led them past the three secretaries' desks and knocked on the vice principal's door.

"Come in," a voice from inside said. Mr. Haynes opened the door and ushered Sam and Scott inside. "Take a seat, boys." They did as they were told, each sitting in two of the three chairs in front of the vice principal's desk, leaving an empty chair between them. Sam studied the nameplate on the vice principal's desk (Andrew Chase) in order to avoid looking at any one person. Mr. Chase looked them over before turning to Mr. Haynes. "What is it?" he asked.

"I found these two in Rob Adams's classroom." Mr. Chase raised a thick salt and pepper eyebrow and waited for the teacher to continue. "They were kissing and, and grinding against each other."

"We weren't grinding," Sam said, a trace of defiance in his voice. Mr. Chase held up a large hand to silence Sam so Mr. Haynes could continue.

"If I hadn't walked in when I did… I don't know how far they would've gone. This one," he jerked a thumb over at Sam, "was sitting on a desk and Scott here was practically... straddling him with his hands under his shirt," Mr. Haynes said, his voice dripping with disgust.

Mr. Chase sighed and turned to his computer, clicking something with his mouse and typing as he muttered, "Scott Kaplan." He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number he read off his computer screen. "Thank you, Mr. Haynes, I'll handle it from here," the vice principal said. Mr. Haynes nodded and exited the office, closing the door behind him.

"Never expected to see you in here, Scott," Mr. Chase said with a shake of his head while he waited for someone to answer the phone. "Hello Mrs. Kaplan? This is Andrew Chase, the vice principal. I need you to come in about an incident involving your son…. No, he's fine. Yes. Alright, thank you." Mr. Chase hung up the phone. "Your parents will be here shortly," he told Scott. He turned to Sam. "You're new. Remind me of your name."

"Please don't call my dad," Sam said.

"Name," Mr. Chase demanded.

"Sam Winchester," Sam muttered. Mr. Chase pulled up Sam's record on the computer and picked up the phone again. Sam sunk into his chair, unable to look at anyone and dreading the moment when he'd have to face his father.

* * *

_-A/N: Well... Not much to say about this chapter. I'll leave it up to you to do the talking, so comment and review as always. More soon.  
~aep _


	108. Parenting

**108. Parenting**

"He's only been in that school for what, a week or two? And I'm already getting called to the damn office," John said in annoyed disbelief, rapidly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. "Sounds more like you than Sam."

"Yeah," Dean murmured. "Take a left up here. The school will be on the right in a minute."

John knocked on the vice principal's door. "Come in." John entered, Dean following him. "Have a seat, Mr. Winchester." John looked over at Sam and another boy sitting in chairs against the back wall of the office with their heads hanging low. He turned away from them and took a seat beside a couple sitting in front of the vice principal's desk. With no more free chairs, Dean just leaned against the doorframe.

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Kaplan and their son, Scott," Mr. Chase introduced them quickly, getting the pleasantries out of the way. He cleared his throat. "Your sons were found in an empty classroom," Mr. Chase paused.

"Fighting?" John asked.

Mr. Chase shook his head, looking flustered, as if he would have been completely prepared to handle students fighting but not what was coming next. He cleared his throat and spoke. "No. Apparently they were, uh, kissing and, uh, things were getting serious…"

It was as if Sam were underwater, he could hear Mr. Chase still speaking but it was muffled and impossible to make out as he glanced over at his brother surreptitiously. His focus had been on dealing with his father, he hadn't even considered that Dean might be there, making everything a million times worse just by standing in silence.

Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him and he looked over to see his little brother biting his lip and looking away after a split second of eye contact. "Excuse me," Dean muttered before slipping out of the office and doing his best not to slam the door behind him. He walked into the main hall, pacing, his thoughts too jumbled to pick out anything coherent.

"Fuck!" he nearly shouted. "Okay, calm down, calm down," he urged himself. He slammed his back against the wall, forcing himself to stop pacing. All too soon he saw the Kaplans and their son walk out of the office, averting their eyes and hurrying out of the building. Dean knew John and Sam would be next. He shut his eyes tightly and pressed his palms against them. Within seconds he heard his father's voice, quiet but enraged. He let his hands fall to his sides and opened his eyes to see his family walking towards the exit.

"Time to go, Dean!" John called over his shoulder. Dean followed them, maintaining a few feet of distance between them.

"What the hell, Sam?" John said when they were all in the car. He started it up and began to drive away from the school. Sam just stayed quiet in the backseat. "No, really, answer me. What the _hell_?"

"What do you want me to say?" Sam finally asked from the backseat.

John gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "How about -"

"How about you two do this when I'm not around. 'Cause I really don't wanna hear it," Dean said, working to keep his voice even.

"Well, too bad because we're doing this now," John said before looking into the rearview mirror at Sam.

Things that went bump in the night was something John knew he could handle, but this was entirely different, something he never even dreamed of having to deal with. Something Kelly had said to him weeks ago suddenly surfaced in his mind. _" He's gonna run from you and the life you've forced on him. He's going to go out to face the world on his own… He'll fall in love… with a girl this time."_He had hardly paid any attention to that statement at the time, his focus trained on anything Kelly would tell him about the demon that killed Mary.

"So, what? A-Are you… gay?" John asked, keeping his voice as even as he could.

"Wow, don't beat around the bush or anything," Sam muttered, trying to sound calm when really all he could do was worry about what Dean was thinking through all this.

"Don't talk back to me, Sam. Just answer the question," John said, frustration coursing through him.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked coldly.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," John muttered through clenched teeth.

"Fine, I'll give you two choices," Sam began, his voice tinged with a surprising amount of condescension for someone so young. "Choice number one: No, of course your son's not gay. Why would you even ask such a thing? Oh, right… which leads us to choice number two: Yeah, actually he is. He's a big flamer. And he's known it for a while. In fact, you're the only one who hasn't known until now."

John looked over at Dean who was staring firmly out the window. He paused for a minute before looking back into the rearview mirror at Sam. "Y-You're fourteen. You don't know what -"

"Didn't you know you liked girls by the time you were fourteen, Dad? 'Cause I sure as hell know I like boys. I like them _a lot_." He let his words dig in, like a knife chipping away at wood.

"Sam, shut up! Just stop talking!" Dean finally yelled. Sam was tempted to keep going but the sound of his brother's voice sobered him instantly.

John parked by the old barn and the three of them got out of the car and walked into the house. John shut the door behind them and pulled off his coat. Both Sam and Dean made to head off in different directions away from their father but John called for them to stop.

"I'm not done talking to you boys."

"Dad, please, I don't wanna be involved in this," Dean said, the fact that he genuinely didn't want to be a part of John and Sam's next shouting match being the least of his concerns. More than the unpleasantness of watching his father and brother at each other's throats, Dean was worried that they would figure out that the real reason for his anger was more to do with jealousy than anything else.

"Well, like it or not you are. You knew about this, didn't you?" John asked. Dean glanced at Sam for a second, confirming John's suspicions. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What's to tell, Dad? It's not like this is something that can be fixed by yelling at it. If he's gay then he's gay. It doesn't matter." The words stung in his throat, sour in his mouth as he avoided eye contact with his father.

"The hell it doesn't!" John shouted.

"Well, why should it matter?" Sam asked his father.

"Because, because it does!" John said, flustered.

"Well, that's a compelling argument," Sam said, working at not rolling his eyes.

"Goddammit, Sam, stop joking around!" John shouted. Dean started to walk away. "Dean get back here! We're not done!"

Dean stopped and looked his father straight in the eye, spewing words he wasn't even aware of forming in his head. "Your kid being a fag has nothing to do with me!"

He turned to see his little brother staring at him, looking as though he'd just been slapped hard across the face. Dean knew just how cruel and hypocritical he was being and that he would regret it in a matter of minutes, but he couldn't help but feel satisfied to see that hurt, stunned look in Sam's eyes. He held Sam's gaze for a minute before looking back at his father who also looked shocked by his words. The sudden silence seemed to echo between the three of them.

Sam tore his stunned face away from his big brother to look at his dad. "I-If you come up with a legitimate reason to yell at me, fine," he started, seizing on the opportunity to talk in the moment of tense silence, "Otherwise leave me alone." He bolted up the staircase and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam threw his backpack to the floor and sprawled out on his bed, his entire body shaking with rage and disbelief. "I can't believe that he just called me a..." He stared up at the ceiling and burst out laughing. He laughed until his face and stomach ached and he couldn't breathe. Sam slid off the bed and sat slumped on the floor, his hysteria draining away. "... Fag."

* O *

The two older Winchesters stood there quietly for a minute after Sam had left until Dean turned away and began walking to the living room. John followed after his eldest son. "You had no right to call your brother that!" he spat at Dean from the doorway of the living room.

Dean turned away from John and took a seat on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. The guilt and regret was already starting to take its familiar hold over him but he shook it off. "If I hadn't said it you probably would've."

John ignored Dean's words and spoke. "Look, if he's confused or... whatever, now's not the time for name-calling." He stepped into the living room and came around to stand in front of his son. Dean tightened his arms in front of his chest and slouched down deeper into the couch, avoiding eye contact.

He wanted to ask exactly when John had taken this sudden interest in reasonable and caring parenting but he held back. "He's not confused, Dad. I think that's kinda the problem," he muttered instead.

"How long have you known?" John asked. He waited for an answer from his son. When he didn't get one he leaned forward, his face just a few feet from Dean's. "And why the hell didn't you tell me about it, Dean?" He paused again before glancing around the room pointedly. "Sam's not here now. You can tell me, son."

Dean marveled at how John's voice sounded more fatherly than it had in years. It made Dean wonder if it was a complete act, like when John posed as a police officer to get information out of someone.

Maybe it wasn't an act, but it still didn't feel authentic. Dean wished John would just yell again. He was used to that. He knew how to react to that.

"I-I don't know. I've had my suspicions for a while. But I didn't, I _don't_ want to get involved," Dean said, not quite meeting his father's eye. He could see John bristling from his peripheral vision.

John knew Dean wasn't telling the whole truth and it infuriated him. He took a deep breath to keep from yelling but a strange fire was growing in the pit of his stomach, an anger that went beyond the startling news about Sam and Dean's reluctance to speak to him.

The intensity of his anger was like some emotion stored away from a long forgotten dream. He couldn't justify the way he felt and he didn't want to alienate his children any more than he already had. "Alright," John paused and ran a hand over his face, his stubble scratching his palm. "You need to apologize to your brother. I don't care if he is or isn't a f... you don't get to call him that."

"Yes sir, I know," Dean muttered.

* * *

_- A/N: Let me know what you think. I hope to have more for y'all soon though things are really hectic right now (but what else is new).  
~aep _


	109. Shattered Families

**109. Shattered Families**

Sam's body tensed at the sound of Dean's boots climbing the stairs and coming to a stop outside of his door. He glanced wearily at the foot of the doorway where he could just make out his brother's shadow creating a pool of darkness there. "Go away," Sam said before Dean had the chance to knock.

"Dad wanted me to apologi-"

Sam cut his brother off. "I don't give a crap what Dad wants. Just leave me alone." Sam was already furious with Dean for what he had called him, but now to act as if the only reason Dean had come was because John had forced him to only added insult to injury.

Dean leaned his head against the door. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I never should have said -"

The sincerity in Dean's voice frustrated Sam who would rather have stewed in his own fury instead of having his brother's remorse tinge his anger. He was still upset, but once again he found his feelings for Dean clouding and confusing all his other emotions. He shook his head and clenched his fists, forcing himself to hold onto his anger.

Sam stood and walked to the door, yanking it open and nearly making Dean fall over. The older boy regained his balance as he looked into his brother's face. "You saying sorry doesn't make it better. And are you saying it because you're actually sorry or because Dad gave you orders to? You're a dick, you know that? And the biggest hypocrite and -"

Dean cut Sam off. "I know!" He glanced around the hallway instinctually, making sure their father wasn't around to overhear.

"And a coward," Sam added. He took a little pleasure in seeing Dean's jaw clench at his words.

"I'm not a coward," Dean said.

Sam laughed coldly. "You are when it comes to Dad. And me." Sam could tell that Dean wanted to refute what he had just said but couldn't.

* O *

John could hear his sons yelling upstairs. He sank down onto the sofa that Dean had just vacated and cradled his head in his hands. He felt weak just for thinking it but he couldn't help wishing that Mary was there to help him deal with their children. She would know what to say. She would know how to nurture them because John knew that they needed that. He remembered once upon a time when he was able to nurture them too. John's mind drifted to the night of Mary's death, just a few hours before he had found her burning on the ceiling. He could see Sam's nursery as clearly as if he were there.

_"Daddy!" little four-year-old Dean said as he jumped into John's arms._

_"Hey buddy! What do you think? You think Sammy's read to toss around a football yet?" John asked_

_playfully._

_"No, daddy," Dean said, shaking his head with a little laugh._

_"No," John agreed, smiling warmly at his son._

_"You got him?" Mary asked, laying a hand on Dean's back as she began to leave the room._

_"I got him," John said. He looked over to the crib where a six-month-old Sam was starting to fall asleep. "Sweet dreams, Sam."_

* O *

Sam had just managed to drift to sleep, his latest argument with Dean still echoing in his mind. He shivered slightly in the cool room, sinking deeper into the blanket and his dreams. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He turned away from the touch, eyebrows knitting together as he forced his eyes open ever so slightly. Dean stood leaning over him. Sam could smell the cheap beer on his breath. He sat up and pushed his big brother away. They stared at each other in the darkness of the room for a few minutes, neither of them speaking.

"Where's Dad?" Sam finally asked. Dean tried to ignore what he knew Sam was insinuating by asking the question - _You wouldn't be here if Dad was around. You wouldn't have the guts to risk it._

"He took the car a while ago. He's prob'ly at a bar or something, I don't know," Dean said with a shrug, taking a seat on the edge of Sam's bed.

"Smells like you're the one coming from a bar," Sam muttered as he pressed his back against the wall, flattening himself against it to gain as much distance from Dean as he could.

"The beer was in the house -"

Sam cut his big brother off. "Wow, so drinking at home, by yourself. That's not lame or anything."

"Sam, just... shut up for a minute, will ya?" Dean asked, swiping a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Go have another beer and leave me the hell alone," Sam spat, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring into Dean's tired eyes. The older boy opened his mouth then closed it, the words lost before they reached his tongue. He let out a low breath and slowly rose from the bed. Sam tried to read Dean's expression but couldn't. There was an emptiness in his face that made him look almost like a stranger to Sam.

Dean ran his tongue over his top teeth, sucking on them for a second before turning and walking from the room, snapping the door shut behind him. Sam stared after his big brother, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The way Dean had just walked away without putting up a fight unsettled Sam. He had expected something more, some form of confrontation but not... nothing. Dean's blank eyes flashed in his mind. No confrontation, not tonight. But Sam knew instinctually that one was coming. He laid back down, curling in upon his side and biting down on his lip as he willed sleep to take him back and let him forget everything for a few hours.

* O *

Sam sat at a desk in the classroom, staring blankly at the blackboard behind the teacher who was on detention duty that Wednesday afternoon. Three other students and Scott were scattered in the seats around the room and the silence crawled by, cut only by the sound of the clock ticking slowly on the wall by the door. He traced the pen scribbles etched into the desk with his finger and mused idly over the slap on the wrist the vice principal had given him and Scott: just one detention. Not that Sam minded, it just felt like Mr. Chase didn't want to really acknowledge what had happened even if he knew how to.

Sam turned his head slightly to the left, eying Scott in the seat two rows over and one behind him. He noticed Scott look his way out of his peripheral vision and Sam turned back to face the front of the room, finger still tracing over the marks in the graffitied desk.

Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat and addressed the sprinkling of students. "Time's up. You're free to go. I hope I don't see you back here." Sam grabbed his bag and slipped it over his shoulder, bolting from the room. He was halfway down the hall when he felt a hand on his arm. He swung around, his free arm automatically lunging forward in a defensive move. Scott ducked Sam's fist, looking surprised by sudden threat of near-violence.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize for getting you in trouble," he muttered as the other kids that had been held in detention walked past. "I mean, it's not just the school thing, my parents are so pissed. My dad won't talk to me and my mom is just being so weird around me. And your dad was upset too and..." Scott's voiced faded. Sam cast a glance their way as they turned a corner.

"I'm sorry your family's freaked. But we kissed each other. It's kind of a mutual trouble thing. You don't have to apologize to me. It's not your fault. Don't worry about it," Sam said dismissively, shrugging and walking away, leaving Scott standing there.

* O *

Dean heard the Impala pull up to the house then the car doors open and shut. He stood up from the couch he had occupied for most of the day and went to stand by a window in the corner of the living room, as far away from the front entrance as he could get. He stared through the dirty glass and listened intently as his family entered the house. His ear followed the pattern of their footsteps as John's heavy footfalls made their way into the kitchen and Sam's fast gait faded up the stairs.

Dean continued to stare blankly out the window as he marveled out how disjointed his family had become. It was only the three of them, staying isolated in separate rooms of a house they couldn't call their home.

* O *

Tara stared at the small expanse of blank wall across from her in the tiny office. She shook her head and drew her focus back to typing up copies of hard files into the computer. "Tara?" a tentative voice asked from the doorway. Tara looked up from the computer screen to see a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old with frizzy black hair that went just past her shoulders standing before her.

"Monica!" Tara stood up and was at the door in seconds, grabbing the girl in a hug. Monica reciprocated the hug immediately, sinking into it and sighing. Tara stroked her hair and gave her a squeeze when she felt Monica's body shudder with silent sobs. "Oh, honey," Tara whispered.

"I missed you so-o much," Monica whispered through her tears. "One day you were just gone and then the nurses were saying you got fired and, and -"

"Shh, it's okay. Jack got me my job back. I'm only working in the office for now but as soon as I can, I'll be back working with you guys," Tara assured the girl.

"We all miss you so much. What happened?" Monica asked, breaking the hug and looking up into Tara's face.

"There was a... a death in my family and I, I couldn't handle it. I got fired for missing too much work. But I'm back now. And once I meet with the board it shouldn't be long until I'm officially a child care worker again. In the meantime, I'm doing all the boring filing stuff here," Tara gestured around the small office.

Monica smiled and wrapped her arms around Tara, leaning into her shoulder. "Monica, honey, are they still making you see your father?" Tara whispered. Monica hugged her tighter and nodded against her shoulder. "Is he still hurting you?" Tara asked, already knowing the answer. Monica nodded again.

Footsteps in the hallway made the girl let go of Tara and peer out the door nervously. A male nurse named Robin stopped before them. "Monica, you have group therapy now. You can't just be wandering around," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her from the office.

"Hey! Let go of her! She can get their on her own," Tara said, rushing after them.

"Clearly not, if she's here with you," he said, though he released Monica's wrist. Robin and Tara glared at each other for a moment. "Welcome back, by the way," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "Let's go," he directed at Monica. She nodded and followed after him. Tara watched them go, leaning against the wall and sighing. She stepped back into the office.

A knock on the doorframe jolted Tara. She looked up at the clock to see it was five already. Jack entered the small office. "I'm giving you a ride home, right?" Tara nodded and forced out a little smile.

Tara sighed when she got into the passenger seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at the building they had just left. "You okay?" Jack asked. Tara nodded then shook her head.

"I don't know. I mean, I'm so grateful that you got me that job and I love that I'm gonna get to see all the kids again but... I don't know if I'm gonna be cut out for it anymore once I'm fully reinstated. I saw Monica today and the administration is still enforcing visitations with her f-father," Tara's throat choked up and she couldn't say anymore. She took a deep breath. "He rapes her and they still force her to see him," she whispered through gritted teeth.

"That's why you have to stay, Tare. She needs you. And the other kids do too. Reporting the abuse only gets you suspended, remember? So the best we can do is be there for those kids whe-"

"It's not enough!" Tara nearly shouted. "They're children! They don't deserve to suffer like this. We're supposed to help them, not hurt them."

"I know," Jack said softly as he drove down the street. "Do you wanna come back to my place for the evening? I have to walk Bones and I could use the company."

"No, not tonight. But, raincheck?" Jack nodded understandingly and brought Tara to her apartment, getting out of the car when he had entered the parking lot to give her a hug.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?" Jack asked as she began to walk towards her apartment building. Tara turned back and nodded, once again forcing that smile for her friend.

* O *

Dean turned over on the sagging couch, willing himself to sleep. He shifted again, sitting up and punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape. Sam's guilty face loomed in his mind and that other kid, Scott... "Fuck," Dean whispered angrily, though just who he was angry at he wasn't sure.

He begged his mind to pull away from his brother. And he was rewarded by a momentary relief until Tara flitted into his head. The sight of her at the gas station a few days ago suddenly gnawed at him. Even if he knew he must have imagined her, seeing her face for that split second made him miss her, really miss her. He could picture her so clearly. Her sweet smile and soft brown eyes warmed him, the thought of her hand on his cheek made him breathe a small sigh of relief at the simple comfort.

He pulled himself back to reality even as his mind was slipping further and further away from it and into the world of dreams. Just as he was nearly lost in sleep a rumble in his stomach tensed his entire body. Tara's sweetness was gone, replaced by a wild, hungry jealousy that hadn't been unleashed before, he had kept his own mind too guarded to let the full flow of emotions hit him: rage and hurt at the thought of Scott touching Sam... and Sam letting him. He wanted to break something, smash it to pieces. He pulled himself off the couch and grabbed a six-pack of beer from under the kitchen sink. He slipped outside and leaned against the outside of the house, cracking open a beer and chugging it down.

He put the empty bottle back in the six-pack holder when he was done and made his way into the barn. He opened another bottle and drank it before chucking it as hard as he could at the rusting truck that they had stored in the barn. It shattered with a satisfying sound, shards flying to the floor. He grabbed his first beer and smashed that bottle too. He watched the brown glass fall all around him. He shook his head and walked slowly back to the house, the momentary release of breaking those bottles left him hollow and dissatisfied. He grabbed one more beer as he entered the house, putting the other three back under the sink and walking into the living room. He took a swig as he sat down on the couch. He swirled the beer around in the bottle before setting it on the floor by the couch and lying down with his eyes closed.

_Tara laid a hand on Dean's and stared up into his face, her eyes filled with something more than the usual affection. "I know how much you miss Sam, miss touching him," she murmured to him. "I know I'm not Sammy, but I can still make you feel… just make you feel," she whispered, her hands moving up to his chest and resting there for a moment. She studied Dean's face thoughtfully as her hands slid slowly down his chest and stomach._

Dean woke with a start, unsettled by the fragment of memory that had come to him in his sleep. If it had just been a fantasy maybe it wouldn't have bothered him so much. But it had actually happened, only it wasn't his friend who had said those things to him. It was Kelly, invading Tara's body and manipulating them both just hours after murdering Tara's girlfriend. Dean sat up and swung his legs onto the floor, leaning forward and staring down at the floor as he ran a hand through his short hair.

Dean jumped up instinctively at the sound of a floorboard creaking in the next room. He made his way into the kitchen silently to see Sam opening cabinets quietly in search of food. He turned around, as if sensing Dean's presence and they looked at each other for a moment. Dean stalked away, returning to the living room and grabbing the beer by the couch. He downed what was left of it, stalling while he decided whether or not return to the kitchen. He took a deep breath and walked back in. Sam had a grabbed a few slices of bread and was taking a bite out of one of them.

Sam shifted uncomfortably as he took another bite. He turned to go but Dean grabbed his arm. Sam stopped and looked back questioningly. "Please, just..." Dean muttered, unable to finish his thought, let alone his sentence. Sam shook his head and tried to pull his hand free but Dean held tighter to it. Suddenly Dean yanked Sam forward, out of the kitchen and out of the house. Dean ran like a wild man while Sam dragged behind, finally giving in and running after him. Dean pushed open the barn door and yanked Sam inside, finally releasing his wrist.

"I'm sorry!" Dean nearly shouted.

"Funny way of showing it," Sam said as he massaged his wrist. "Besides, you already said you were sorry, Dean."

"I know, I know. But... Y-You think it was easy seeing that kid and knowing that you let him kiss you?" Dean took a deep breath. "Or maybe you kissed him?" His words slurred slightly in his mouth though the beers in his system had hardly given him a buzz.

Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest in disbelief. "Do you think it's easy knowing when you're off at some bar screwing the first person you can find to take you home?" he shot back, the words sliding off his tongue before he had the chance to realize they had been on his mind.

Dean shook his head and leaned against the rusting truck. "Pfft, please Sam. You never have to see those people. And it's not like _I'll_ever see 'em again. But you see that kid every goddamn day."

"Look, you know we can't be... there are a thousand reasons why we can't do... So, so why shouldn't I kiss someone I like? He's somebody that I could maybe actually be with!" Sam shouted despite the sensation of his throat closing on him.

Dean bristled and stepped away from the truck, making his way towards his little brother. "Sam, you're mine. It's not fair but it's true. You're mine," he growled. Sam was surprised by Dean's words, so blunt and possessive. The older boy grabbed hold of the younger one, forcing his lips suddenly onto Sam's.

_-A/N: So in case any of you didn't remember, the flashback I wrote for John had direct dialogue from the pilot episode. I just wanted to credit that._

_In other news, now that I have a new computer I've started video editing Supernatural music videos. I'm not fabulous or anything but I have made a youtube channel and I would love for you guys to tell me what you think of my vids. I have three up so far. I'm (big shock) youtube [dot] com [slash] BrokenSilence137._

_Also, those of you who follow me on twitter have probably seen that I have a tumblr that y'all can check out/follow. BrokenSilence137 [dot] tumblr [dot] com._

_Don't mind me whoring myself out here. Love you guys!_

_~aep_


	110. Weakness

**110. Weakness**

Sam wanted to give in and let the kiss happen but not like this - not angry and desperate and violent. Dean wrestled Sam to the ground and Sam fought against him, hard. It seemed hopeless, Dean's anger was so intense and he was older and stronger. But a well-placed kick to the ribs finally separated them. Dean gasped out in pain, grabbing hold of the spot where Sam had kicked with all his might.

"Holy shit, Sam! I think you might've broken a rib," Dean groaned out, curled on the floor on his uninjured side. He let out a sharp breath and massaged his ribs. "Christ," he whispered.

"I'm sorry - I just, I needed you to stop," Sam whispered. He sat up from the floor and wrapped his arms around himself, watching as his older brother came up to a sitting position, still gripping his side.

The impulse Dean always had to fight back hadn't struck. The shock of his little brother's strength and desperation had stopped him from retaliating, especially because Dean knew that he was in the wrong. He hated that he was spinning out of control like this.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, breaking through Dean's thoughts. The younger boy crawled towards the older one and gingerly laid a hand on Dean's chest. Dean lied down and Sam leaned in and rested his head in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean put one arm around his little brother and pulled him in closer, careful not to irritate the fresh injury in his side. Sam sighed into Dean's warm skin. He'd missed being this close to his brother but now that he was, he only wanted to run away. He'd never before felt uncomfortable or obligated to be close to Dean. Yet there he was, repeating those two whispered words "I'm sorry," over and over again, trying to comfort the older boy. All those times that Dean had pushed Sam away, telling him he didn't want to abuse him finally made sense to Sam. He suppressed a shudder as he curled up against the person that had just made him feel violated.

As much as he still wanted his big brother, Sam had never wanted violence to infect what they felt. And lying still in Dean's arms, he couldn't help but feel how just moments ago Dean had grabbed him and forced himself on Sam. They had argued before, argued to the point of nearly coming to blows, but it had never gotten that far. And what had just happened wasn't pure violence, it was wrapped up in both their sexualities and feelings for one another. He felt more and more trapped with each breath he took in Dean's arms. How could he want Dean to make it better when he was the one who had caused the problem?

_God, what do I do?_Sam thought. He slowly slid up until his forehead was pressed softly against Dean's cheek. Dean raised a hand and threaded it through Sam's hair without a word.

Dean took shallow breaths to avoid expanding the ribs that Sam had kicked as he continued to let his fingers roam through Sam's hair. The pain in his side wasn't bothering him nearly as much as what he had done to warrant it. How could he have lost control like that? He clenched his jaw and wished he could take back his actions. But at the same time, as wrong as it felt, he had missed holding Sam so much that for a moment he almost didn't regret what he had done. _What the fuck, Dean? Of course you should regret it. What the hell is this? Why do we keep hurting each other? One way or another we always end up like this..._Dean thought to himself.

* O *

Dean sat in the hospital waiting room after dropping Sam off at school. The car ride had passed in complete silence like an unspoken promise not to discuss what had happened the previous night. Dean shifted in the plastic waiting room chair, causing a twinge in his side. He grabbed a newspaper off the coffee table in front of him. He balked at the date in the upper corner of the first page. "Excuse me," he said to a middle-aged woman sitting a few chairs away from him. "Is this today's paper?" He showed her the front page. She leaned forward and squinted it at.

"May second?" she read. "No, that's yesterday's."

"Shit, Sammy. Sorry for the worst birthday ever," Dean muttered under his breath, remembering the events of last night.

"What, dear?" the woman asked.

"Nothing," Dean said with a shake of his head.

After sitting in the hospital waiting room for over an hour Dean stood and left, wincing slightly when he moved. He stopped off at the pharmacy on his way out and grabbed a few rolls of medical gauze. He didn't need a doctor to patch him up, he could handle it himself.

* O *

"I'm so sick of this weather. It isn't winter anymore. I mean, it's May for God's sake," Susan complained at the lunch table through a mouthful of cheeseburger. Scott nodded in agreement and Sam just stared blankly across the cafeteria, rehashing the events of last night, while still vaguely hearing Susan's complaints about the unseasonable cold that had yet to lift.

The bell rang and the mass of students shuffled to their feet, slowly making their way to the double doors that would lead them back to their next boring class. Sam felt a deliberate hand on his back in the jostling crowd. He turned to see Scott chewing on his lip. "Can I talk to you real quick?" he muttered under his breath. Sam sighed but nodded and they broke away from the rest of the students and slipped into a nearby bathroom.

Scott quickly checked that the stalls were empty before locking the door behind him and taking a step towards Sam. "Let's make this quick. We've got two minutes 'til the second bell," Sam said.

Scott nodded. "Right. Of course," he muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest and taking a deep breath. "Look, Sam, I really like you. And... I don't know. Before we got caught... it was, it was really nice."

"So what if it was?" Sam asked angrily, his voice coming out much louder than he had expected. Scott looked taken aback by his usually mild-mannered friend's outburst. Sam took deep breath. "Scott, I wanna be your friend. I can't deal with anything more than that, and neither can the people around us so just drop it," he said bluntly. He liked Scott but he had enough complications with the relationship he had with his brother. He didn't need to add someone else to the equation.

"But if you like me, and I think you do, who cares what other people can deal with?" Scott asked. His face had such an earnest look to it that Sam almost wanted to agree but he stopped himself.

"I don't like you, Scott. Not like that," Sam lied, his voice hard and determined. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don't? Like... not at all?" Scott asked, his face sad but a little glint of hope in his eyes. Sam couldn't take it.

"Christ, what do you want? Do you think we can just kiss and then ride off into the sunset? It doesn't fucking work like that. Not for me anyway. And I -"

Scott tried to cut him off. "No, but -"

"Stop! Just stop it!" And before Sam had fully realized what he was doing his fist had connected with Scott's face. Scott staggered backwards, banging into a bathroom stall and feeling his bottom lip. A trickle of blood slid down his chin. He looked at Sam in complete shock, not anger or hurt, just shock.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered before running from the bathroom. There were still a few students in the halls and Sam pushed through them. The second bell rang and everyone rushed into classrooms, leaving him alone in the hallway. He broke out in a run, his feet guiding him to the nearest exit. He smashed his way through the double doors and kept running, running until the school was no longer in sight. He doubled over for a minute, rubbing at a stitch in his side. _Dean._Sam thought of last night when Dean had been clutching his own side where he had kicked him. He stood up straight and started walking towards home.

He had been walking for half an hour when Susan's voice suddenly popped into his head. _"It isn't winter anymore. I mean, it's May for God's sake."_He stopped.

"What's today?" he muttered to himself. He visualized the chalkboard in homeroom that always had the date written in rushed cursive in the top left corner. _May 3, 1998._

"I'm fifteen? I've been fifteen since yesterday and I didn't even know it." He began walking again. He must have had to write down the date in each one of his classes for something or other yesterday. How could he not have registered that it was his birthday? He shook his head in disbelief.

"Well, I guess you've been a little distracted lately." His head shot to the left where Kelly was suddenly walking next to him. She wiggled her fingers in a little wave and smirked at him. Sam turned his focus back on the road and picked up his pace. "Sweetie, it's not exactly like you can outrun me," Kelly said with a little laugh, her voice right in his ear. Sam didn't say a word to her, he just kept walking. "Ooh, the silent treatment. That kinda hurts, Sammy."

"Well, I have nothing to say to you. And don't call me Sammy," Sam said, walking faster still.

"Gee Sam, I'm starting to think you don't appreciate my little visits," Kelly said, her tone dripping with fake hurt.

"Wow, what gave you that idea?" Sam asked through clenched teeth. He could feel the rock forming in his throat and hated that he was on the verge of tears with Kelly right beside him. He willed himself not to cry in front of her. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"Well fine, I can see you're in no mood for a friendly visit. I guess I'll go see your brother instead," Kelly whispered in his ear. A gust of wind blew by Sam and she was gone. He felt bad for the sigh of relief that escaped his lips when he knew that Kelly was on her way to harass Dean but he couldn't help it. He sighed and let the tears full of anger and frustration fall.

* O *

Dean walked slowly along the line of trees by the house. He slid off his jacket and folded it over one arm as he continued to walk. He looked back at the house as it shrank the further he walked from it.

He itched at the gauze wrapping through his shirt. He desperately wanted to apologize to Sam for putting him in a position where he would have to defend himself like that. But he didn't know how to get the words out or how to push his pride, or maybe shame, out of the way. And even if he knew what to say, Dean didn't want to be anywhere near Sam for fear of losing control again.

"Wow, looking even guiltier than usual. That's impressive, Dean," Kelly's voice sounded softly on the wind. Dean spun around to see her standing with her hands on her hips and that ever-present smug smile lighting up her face.

"Fuck off," Dean said, turning around walking away from her. He could feel her behind him.

"Did I already strike a nerve?" she asked, coming to walk beside him with a glint in her eye.

"Your existence strikes a nerve," Dean muttered.

"Glad to be of service," she said with a little curtsy. Dean shook his head and laughed quietly to himself. "Care to share the joke?" she asked.

"It's just funny to me, well, sad really, that a sweet little girl, an innocent victim could become..." he pointed at Kelly. Her features hardened slightly. "Did I strike a nerve?" Dean echoed.

"I'm here to talk about you, not me," Kelly said.

"How selfless," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"I know what you did," Kelly whispered in his ear. The cold that emanated from her made Dean shiver. "You hurt him. You made him feel so desperate that even though he was lying in your arms all he wanted to do was run."

"Shut up," Dean whispered.

"You know it's true," Kelly said, her voice as soft as silk.

"Shut up!" Dean stopped walking abruptly. Kelly came to stand directly in front of him, her eyes looking right into his. Dean was surprised to see that she wasn't smiling. She reached a hand out and caressed his cheek. It felt like an ice cube sliding down his face. He quickly stepped back.

"You remind me of... You're a lot like Eric." Before Dean could think of a response she had disappeared. He stood there in shock for a moment before veering off into the woods to his right, trampling through the mud and dead leaves and twigs. He came to lean against a tall tree, the rough bark digging into his back. He turned around, his fingers tracing the grooves and cracks in the tree's skin. His hand fell away from the tree, forming a tight fist at his side. The impulse to lash out drove him before he could stop himself and his fist connected with the tough bark. He pulled back and punched at it again and again and again until his knuckles were bloody and chunks of bark had fallen to the ground. Dean closed his eyes and shook out his hand, flexing his fingers and wiping the blood on his jeans.

He wasn't anything like Eric Wright. But Dean's fury at the thought quickly drained away, leaving him with a sudden curiosity. All this time Kelly had been playing off their weaknesses. What if they hit back? Maybe she wasn't quite as cold and unfeeling as she acted. What would happen if Dean confronted her with what she had written in her diary so long ago? Could that be the chink in the armor that Dean needed to weaken her? If she put so much stock in head games couldn't he turn that around on her? Use it to unhinge her? If he could do that maybe he could buy enough time to find a way to take her out, once and for all.

* * *

_-A/N: I'm so sorry about the nearly two month delay in getting this chapter out. On top of the job that's eaten up my life I've had writer's block. But I want y'all to know that I'm fully committed to continuing this story until it's finished. Stick with me, guys! Thanks. Tell me what you think, and once again, I'm sorry that I haven't been able to do my weekly updates in so damn long.  
~aep _


	111. Mistake

**111. Mistake**

Dean strode out of the woods, the pain in his hand and his side not even phasing him. He was a few steps from the house when he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Sam walking toward the house. Dean glanced at his watch. _School's not out for another three hours so what's Sam doing back?_Dean thought. He noticed Sam pause when he saw him then continue walking towards the house. Dean got to the door and held it open for his brother who passed by him without a word.

"Where's your backpack?" Dean asked as he shut the door behind him.

"Left it," Sam muttered before running up to his room.

"Okay," Dean whispered under his breath. He still felt bad about the events of last night but something new was surging through him - something besides the usual guilt and pain and frustration. There was a spark of hope and a healthy dose of determination. He went straight to the kitchen pantry and rummaged for Kelly's diary.

He held the small book in his hands and took a deep breath, kicking the pantry door shut and sitting down against it. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the prospect of reading that terrible journal cover to cover but what other option did he have? If he wanted to get at Kelly's weak spots he had to arm himself. He had to strip away the monster and get at the scared little girl that he hoped was still in there somewhere.

_Well, that's fucked up,_he thought. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he opened the front cover of the diary and began to read.

Dean had been so engrossed in Kelly's journal that he hadn't noticed his father's footsteps coming into the kitchen. He only realized John's entrance when he spoke.

"What are you reading there?" he asked. Dean's head shot up to see his father standing over him. He snapped the journal shut, silently debating whether or not to tell John what it was.

"It's, uh, it's Kelly's childhood journal. There's a lot of messed up stuff in here but I'm reading it 'cause the more we know about her the better. Having some insight into her twisted little head could help us take her down. I mean, I don't know for sure if it'll help or not but it's worth a shot, right?" Dean ended with a shrug. John nodded and held his hand out to see the diary. Dean stood up and handed it to him, watching as John flipped through it, stopping here and there for a few seconds to skim some of it.

"I should look through this," John muttered.

"Of course, sir. But could I finish with it first?" Dean asked.

"I'll get it back to you," John said, and before Dean could speak he walked off with it.

Dean stared at the empty doorway that his father had just left through. "Well alrighty then, thanks Dad..." he whispered to himself.

* O *

Sam lay sprawled on his bed, unable to even sink into his homework as a distraction. Between wanting Dean and not really wanting Scott and Kelly's nagging voice still sounding in his head and his pathetic forgotten birthday, Sam was just ready to explode. All of these things were swirling around him and yet nothing was happening, not really. There wasn't the usual hunt to keep his family busy or the simple change of scenery. As much as he hated moving around all the time he suddenly found himself all too restless being stuck in Ohio. He was ready to run. Ready to just leave his life behind and get a new one, a normal one. Go to college, fall in love with someone he could allow himself to love. But he knew that was just a pipe dream, at least for now. In the meantime he was going to have to live day by day - dealing with his family, regulating his feelings for his brother, doing his schoolwork... And friends? They weren't really part of the equation. They couldn't be. One way or another he'd have to leave them behind. He couldn't focus on them anymore. Besides, he had just punched his closest friend in the face.

"Way to go," Sam muttered to himself sarcastically, sighing and staring up at the ceiling.

* O *

As much as Dean hated to admit it, studying Kelly's journal had given him a sense of purpose, something that he had been sorely lacking as of late. It was also a welcome distraction from his own life, despite how truly horrible the contents of the journal were. And now his father had it and Dean didn't know when he was going to get it back. He leaned his back against the kitchen sink, elbows resting on the cool porcelain. After a minute he pushed off of his elbows to stand upright and found himself walking up the stairs. He paused at the top before stepping quietly towards Sam's room. He paused, forbidding himself to do what he desperately wanted to - run in there and grab his brother and kiss him, hold him... fuck him.

"Goddammit," he whispered so softly he could hardly hear himself. He squared his shoulders and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before stripping down. He looked down at the discarded pile of clothes on the tiled floor and wished Sam's clothes were tangled in there too. "Stop it," he told himself, staring deeply into the mirror. "Just stop." It was more of a beg than a command as he took one last look in the mirror before stepping into the shower to get whatever release he could.

* O *

Sam tossed and turned in his sleep, dreams narrated by Kelly's voice crawled about in his skull, scratching at his brain. He was in a small black room with no doors, no escape. He could see Scott's shocked face, dribbling blood down his front, a slow drip at first that soon grew until it soaked his clothes and he fell to his knees. "Sam?" he whispered.

"Once again little Sammy destroying everything he touches. Everyone he cares about... Following perfectly in the footsteps of his family," Kelly's voice rang out like a commentator at a ballgame. Sam ran forward to catch Scott as he began to fall forward but he didn't make it in time. Scott collided with the floor. Sam lifted him up and saw that it was no longer Scott. It was Dean.

"Why Sam?" he asked softly. He reached out a bloody hand to Sam, trembling to touch him. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder to steady him. Dean pulled away, moaning in pain. Sam looked at the place where he had touched Dean to see his handprint burned into his brother's flesh. The powerful flapping of wings made Sam stand and spin around, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had caused the sound. Some large bird hidden in the darkness? Just out of sight, watching from a corner? "Why?" Dean asked again. Sam turned back to him.

"What are you asking me? I don't know how to answer," Sam told his brother. Dean shut his eyes. His features began to morph as Sam watched in horror. Dean's skin seemed to be bubbling off, melting away from the bone and then reforming. A young woman took Dean's place, with flowing blond hair and a sweet, sad smile.

"Mom?" Sam asked hesitantly. The woman shook her head. "Well, then who are you?"

Kelly's voice tittered. "She can't tell you that, Sam. Can't spoil the surprise." Sam looked around the small room, wishing Kelly would show herself but no one was in the room besides him and the blond woman.

"Why Sam?" her voice was soft and full of affection but there was a note of pain in it that Sam felt as if it were his own.

"Why what? What are you asking me?" Sam yelled. A sudden scalding heat accompanied with a burst of brilliant color lit up the room, blinding Sam. Then the room went pitch black and Sam jerked awake, breathing heavily, twisted in his sheets. As he rubbed at his eyes and tried to make sense of his dream it began to slip away until nothing was left but the vague memory of the feeling of being trapped in a dark room with questions that had no answers.

Downstairs, Dean hadn't come out of his own dream. It was one that had a recurring theme that was getting harder to ignore... A shadow was chasing him and each time he tried to turn back and fight it he found himself attacking thin air. So he would keep running. He would run until he arrived at a brick building, the rusty color of dried blood. He would pick the lock and run up the stairs, running for what felt like hours past floors with no windows or doors. He would feel the shadow just behind him and he'd pick up his speed.

Finally gaining some distance between himself and the shadow, he came upon a door on the top floor. The door swung open before his hand had a chance to touch the doorknob. He opened his mouth to speak to the silhouette of the curvy woman standing framed in the doorway. But she spoke before him. "I can still make you f-"

He found his voice, cutting her off. It was urgent. "I need -"

Dean always woke up before he could finish his sentence and tonight was no different. He sat up and laid his palms over his eyelids, pressing down hard and making up his mind.

* O *

"Dean, what are you doing here?" Tara's face was momentarily frozen in shock at the sight of Dean Winchester at her door.

"I drove all day to come see you. And before you start, I know I shouldn't have and you need space and it isn't safe but, I just... I needed to see you, okay?" He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but into her eyes, feeling awkward by his own honesty.

Tara's features softened and warmed, almost making Dean smile. She gestured for him to enter. "So, uh, how are you doing?" Dean asked as he was guided into the living room.

"I'm doing better," Tara said with a small nod as Dean took a seat on the couch. "Do you want something to drink? Tea or -"

"I'll take a beer if you got it," Dean said. Tara narrowed her eyes at him.

"Ask again when you're twenty-one, 'kay?"

"Tara, we _met_in a bar. I can handle my liquor," Dean said with a cocky grin. Tara rolled her eyes but smiled, going into the kitchen and returning with two beers. She took a seat next to Dean and handed him his drink. They popped the caps off and took a sip at the same time, swallowing and sitting in silence for a moment.

"What's the deal with Kelly lately? Is she still... around?" Tara sounded a little hopeful.

"Yeah," Dean said, noticing Tara's jaw tighten. "I wish I could say she was gone. But you'll be the first to know when we take the bitch down," Dean told her, taking a swig from his bottle.

Tara took another sip of her beer before putting her feet up on the coffee table and muttering under her breath, "I hate that she's still out there, just watching and waiting for the right moment to hurt someone."

"Me too," Dean said softly, eyes on the floor. He knew Tara wasn't trying to blame him for Kelly's continued existence. She didn't have to when it was true.

Dean downed the rest of the beer and stared at the froth at the bottom of the bottle. He could hear Tara's voice whispering in his ear. _"I know I'm not Sammy, but I can still make you feel…"_

He turned to look at her and found himself studying the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way her hand delicately tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, the way her eyes could be so filled with both affection and sadness.

Before he was aware of what his body was doing, he had leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. His eyes fell shut and he waited for her lips to respond to his. When they didn't he moved in closer, putting his arms around her and silently begging for her to kiss back. His body pressed against hers, forcing her to lean back, making them both sink into the couch cushions. Her body was rigid with shock and he just wished she'd respond to him, wanted to make her respond. He curled his fingers through her hair and tried to deepen the kiss.

"Dean, whoa!" Tara jerked sideways out from under him, putting her hands up to enforce some distance between them. Dean released her, ashamed by his loss of control."What the hell was that?" she asked shakily as she stood up from the couch.

"I... don't know. Fuck, I'm sorry, Tara." He raked his hand through his short hair and stood up, quickly walking to the other side of the room. "I'm sorry," he said again, leaning against the wall and wishing he could melt into it and disappear. It was a bold-faced lie to say he didn't know why he'd kissed her. He knew why. She was beautiful and the first woman he ever felt like he could really trust. And if he couldn't have Sam, why shouldn't he take some solace in Tara?

Tara shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Dean, why did you come here?" she asked.

"I missed you," Dean muttered evasively, swiping a hand over the nape of his neck and looking anywhere but at Tara.

"No, you wanted comfort. And I'm willing to be there to comfort you as a friend but not... Dean, I'm gay. And even if I weren't, I would still want us to be just friends. You don't need more romantic drama to confuse your life right now."

"I'm not asking for romance..." Dean said softly, though he wasn't really sure what he was asking for.

"Well, I'm not a distraction." Tara said, her voice firm. "We may have met in a bar but I'm not some ditz you can just kiss and expect to jump into bed with you."

"I know you're not a ditz!" Dean said defensively.

"Then treat me with some respect. I don't like being forced into... well, anything, but especially that. Look, Dean, I get that you're frustrated and lonely and confused but that wasn't okay."

"I know! I'm sorry. It'll never happen again. I'm so sorry." Dean felt like a broken record but he was being completely sincere.

Tara sighed and uncrossed her arms. "I know... but I think you should go now." Dean felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. He nodded silently and made his way to the door, not allowing himself to look back at her and feeling like he'd just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

* * *

_- A/N: As always, much love to all my commenters/reviewers but a special shout out to the people who review anonymously. Sometimes you have questions for me that I'd love to answer but because you don't have a account or you're not logged in I can't reply to your reviews. But you can always get a hold of me through tumblr (tumblr [dot] brokensilence137 [dot] com [slash] ask) or skype (broken [dot] silence)._

_And I'm diligently working on the next chapters whenever I have free time so keep an eye out for more to come. I know I'm a broken record, but I'm sorry that I'm no longer able to post on a weekly basis. Anyway, thanks all.  
~aep _


	112. A Different Kind Of Forever

**112. A Different Kind Of Forever**

Dean sat in the Impala outside Tara's apartment building. He stared through the windshield and tried to shut his brain up but he couldn't seem to quell the screaming in his head: _Fucking idiot! Why did you go and do that? Why the fuck would you do that? Why do you ruin everything?_He beat his fists against the steering wheel until they ached. "Son of a bitch!" he shouted, pounding his fists against the wheel one more time before letting them fall into his lap. He shut his eyes tightly and swiped one of his sore hands over his face. "Dammit," he whispered as he shoved the key in the ignition and turned it. He peeled out of the parking lot, not knowing where he was driving to until he parked in front of a familiar place - the bar he had met Tara at.

Dean slipped the fake ID back into his wallet and took a swig from the bottle that had just been placed in front of him. He looked around the room, zeroing in on a handsome young man before diverting his attention to a girl that was sitting on her own at a little round table in the far corner of the bar. She looked up from her drink and their eyes met. She shot him a little smile as she tucked a chunk of light brown hair behind her ear. It slipped out from behind her ear and rested against her cheek before ending at her chin. Her cheeks reddened slightly and Dean turned to the bartender to order two more beers. He drained what was left of his first drink and grabbed the two new bottles, heading over to her table.

As Dean zipped up his jeans later that night he couldn't help but feel hollow, like someone had scooped his innards out and plopped them down in front of him. He crept out of the girl's apartment and realized, without any particular feeling on the subject, that he couldn't even remember her name. What Tara had said had been right - he had been looking for a distraction. And now that he had gotten what he wanted he was left alone with himself and he hated it. He began to berate himself for his actions once more as he got into the Impala and started the long drive back to Ohio. Dean grabbed a cassette from inside the dashboard at random and jammed it into the tape deck. He turned the volume as loud as it could go in an attempt to drown out the self-hatred that was shouting in his head.

Dean pulled the Impala into the field by the Wright house, his exhaustion nearly drowning out the still-present criticism in his mind as he cut the ignition and sat back in the driver's seat, rubbing at his itching eyes. Before he could stop to calculate just how long he had gone without sleep, a vibrating in his pocket jarred him. He pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open and pressing it against his ear. "Hello?"

"Dean, help! Kelly-" the line went dead, making Tara's voice cut out suddenly. He redialed quickly. A busy signal met his ears. He threw the phone on the passenger seat, not wanting to waste time trying to get a hold of her in vain. He needed to go back the way he came as quickly as possible. The fatigue Dean had felt seconds ago had evaporated, replaced by panic and adrenaline. He turned the Impala back on and began to pull out when a yell made him stall. He peered out the rearview mirror to see Sam running down the front steps.

He caught up with the car, standing in front of it and catching his breath to speak. "Where have you been? Dad's really pissed about you taking the car without ask-"

"I don't have time for this, Sam!" Dean shouted, circling the car around Sam and shooting forward.

"WAIT! DEAN!" Sam called, running after the Impala and grabbing hold of the passenger side door handle. Dean slammed on the brakes.

"Get in or go back," Dean said. Sam swung the door open and hardly had time to close it before Dean took off again, driving faster than he ever had in his life. Sam gripped the dashboard, feeling that his seatbelt wasn't enough of a guard against his brother's manic driving.

"Geez, Dean! What the hell is going on?" Sam asked through clenched teeth.

Dean glanced over at his brother before turning his focus back to the road. "I was with Tara. I just got back and then she called me and Kelly... I don't know. I just need to get back there before..." Dean's voice trailed away.

Sam studied his brother's furrowed brow and white knuckles on the steering wheel. "We're gonna make it to her. Tara's gonna be okay," Sam whispered. Dean looked over at Sam for a second, not really buying it but appreciating the feeble words of comfort nonetheless.

* O *

Dean kicked open Tara's door, rushing in with Sam close behind. "NO!" He could feel his voice rip through his throat, hear his anguished cry but it was like he hadn't been aware of making it. He rushed over to where Tara's body lay sprawled on the living room carpet, bleeding freely. He grabbed her up in his arms and shook her as though to wake her. She wasn't even cold yet. There was a small knife i her limp hand and deep gashes all over her body and face that were still trickling with blood.

Sam stood frozen behind his brother, staring as Dean shook Tara's body as if that could somehow bring her back. He had never seen Dean like this and he didn't know what to do.

Tara's eyes stared up into Dean's face blankly, her mouth open and her limbs limply hanging like a rag doll's. "Tara!" he cried out, his voice already raw, "Tara, fuck, come on! _Tara_!" He continued to shake her in his arms. Her blood was soaking through his clothes, warm and wet and unreal. "Tara, come on. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Tara," his voice was just a ragged whisper, swaying her hair softly.

Sam looked away, feeling as though he were intruding on a private moment of grief where he didn't belong. His focus landed on the television in the corner. "Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean didn't bother to turn around at the sound of his brother's hesitant voice from behind him. He just gripped Tara more tightly, twisting around violently when he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. "Fuck off, Sam!" he snarled, unfazed by Sam's hurt expression. He looked back into Tara's empty face before burying his head in her hair.

"Dean," Sam pressed on softly, kneeling beside his big brother and wincing as he felt Tara's warm blood bubbling up from the carpet and pooling at his knees.

"SHUT UP SAM!" Dean shouted, clutching even tighter to Tara.

"Dean!" Sam urged through clenched teeth, pointing towards the TV. He sighed and stood up, trying to ignore the sensation of Tara's blood dripping down his jeans. He walked slowly to the note that was taped to the television screen. Two words were scribbled out in capital letters: PLAY ME. An arrow pointing up to the VCR on top of the TV guided Sam's finger towards it.

Dean finally pulled his gaze away from the body in his arms and looked up to see Sam backing away from the television. Static filled the screen for a few seconds before the picture cut in to show Tara sitting at her kitchen table. There were tear tracks glistening on her cheeks as she sat staring into the camera. She sniffled then spoke. "She, she wants you to know that this isn't to punish you. It's a test... for your father." Tara looked offscreen pleadingly. A blurry figure entered the frame, coming into focus as she stood in front of Tara. Kelly melted into her and Tara's eyes hardened.

"Okay," Kelly began, speaking through Tara. "So, punishing you is a bonus but it's honestly not the reason I'm doing this. I'm just curious as to whether your daddy will choose his need for revenge over the protection of others. Whether he'll choose his agenda over you." She crossed Tara's legs and leaned forward. "I want to know where his loyalties really lie. And I want you to know that too. Because I'm betting it's with the memory of his dead wife and not with his flesh and blood kids. But we'll see. Tell John I say hi and that I'll see him soon."

Kelly glanced at the watch on Tara's wrist. "Now we're gonna wait for you to do the big hero act and come racing through that door. But you're gonna be too late. By... minutes. See, I'm not gonna kill her 'til I see you pull into that parking lot, Dean. So, if you never came to try to save her... maybe I wouldn't have killed her. Maybe." Tara's shoulders raised in a shrug before she rose to turn off the camera. There was a moment of snowy static on the TV screen before something else began to play, something that Kelly had only partially taped over. It was Tara and Diane, a few years younger and looking so happy as they sat next to each other on the couch.

"- Don't know, for posterity's sake," Diane was saying. "One day we'll be old and wrinkled and we'll look back and watch ourselves and marvel at how young and attractive we were."

"Hey, I don't know about you, but I plan on being young and attractive forever," Tara joked, playfully elbowing Diane in the side.

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

"Turn it off," Dean said, clearing his throat to try to get rid of the hoarseness in his voice. Sam stopped the video and looked at Dean who was still cradling Tara in his arms. Dean took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. "Take the video and put it in the car. Then go grab the duffel that's in the trunk. There should be a change of clothes for both of us. We have to get out of here, and not looking like... this," Dean said, staring down at the blood all over his clothes. Sam nodded, ejecting the video from the VCR and crossing to Dean to take the keys from his outstretched hand.

Dean watched Sam walk out the door before picking Tara up carefully and carrying her body to her bedroom, blood trailing behind them. He laid her down gently on the bed and knelt beside it, staring into her glassy eyes.

"I shouldn't have ever - I'm sorry I ever got involved in your life," Dean murmured softly, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. Shaking his head, he gingerly traced the longest cut on her face - a slash down her left cheek. He felt so useless, helpless as he stared at Tara. She had helped him so much and then when she needed his help he had failed her. And he could pretend that it was all Kelly's fault but that wasn't exactly true. John always told his sons not to make connections with people because it will only get them hurt. He was right. He had been warning against this. And if Dean had been more mindful and obedient of John's rule, Tara and Diane wouldn't have died bloody. They'd have been able to live long lives, getting to one day look back at that video they had made.

Dean heard a timid knock on the doorframe. He looked over to see Sam standing in the doorway with the duffel bag. "Get changed and start wiping down any fingerprints we might have left." Sam nodded, pulling a pair of jeans out of the bag and leaving the room.

* O *

They had crossed the border into West Virginia and gotten a room for the night. Dean couldn't handle another long drive at the moment. He closed the motel door behind him and tossed the keys on the floor. Sam walked towards him but Dean held up a hand to stop his brother. Sam watched Dean make a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He crept towards the door, biting his lip as he considered knocking on it. He heard a squeaky faucet turn and water begin to run.

"Son of a bitch," he heard Dean whisper from the bathroom. Sam felt so helpless and knew that Dean felt even more so. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, wishing he could fix their fucked up lives, save Tara and Diane, make it so Kelly had never existed.

Sam familiarized himself with the room, though it was pretty much like every other motel room he'd ever been in. Two queen-sized beds with matching brown comforters separated by a little nightstand, a small TV set across from the beds, a table by the window and dull maroon wallpaper that added to the already gloomy air of the small room. Sam looked back over to the bathroom door and took a deep breath. "Dean?"

"Don't," Dean muttered through the door. "Just don't. I don't wanna talk about my feelings or, or share or do anything that requires thinking right now. There's nothing to say that's gonna make this better so let's just not, okay?"

Sam clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. "I know," he replied softly, expecting as much from Dean. The faucet turned off and there was a minute of silence before a heavy thunk that Sam knew was Dean's fist colliding with the wall. Sam rattled the doorknob but it was locked. He sighed and took a seat on one of the beds. Leaning forward, he rested his head in his hands and stared down at the stained carpet. A little clock on top of the television set ticked the minutes away. Sam sat up, swinging his legs onto the bed and leaning back against the headboard.

The bathroom door swung open, making Sam jerk forward in surprise. Dean avoided his gaze, taking a seat on the far end of the opposite bed and lying down, arms crossed in front of his chest and one foot over the other. Sam noticed Dean glance at him out of the corner of his eye for a split second before tightening his crossed arms and closing his eyes. He let out a slow stream of air that masked the sound of Sam hesitantly rising from his bed.

Sam studied the dark sunken rings under Dean's eyes, so prominent despite his young age, and his lips, full but tightly pressed together from the tension in his clenched jaw. Sam lifted his foot slowly off the carpet, taking one step towards his brother silently. He didn't really know what he was doing and a voice in the back of his mind was telling him to turn back now, that he didn't need any more rejection, but his entire body felt like it was being tugged forward by an invisible force. He was being pulled by a desperate need to comfort his big brother after the pain of what he had just gone through. He put one hand on Dean's bed, then the other before slowly lying himself down next to his brother. He could see Dean's body tense up but was relieved that Dean hadn't pushed him away.

There were only a few inches of space separating them now and Sam searched within himself to get up the courage to reach out and touch his brother. Whole minutes passed, swallowed by silence and the kind of distance that seemed as vast as the ocean. Sam steeled himself and was finally able to close the space between him and his brother.

* * *

_-A/N: Well, there's the next installment. As always, tell me what ya think. And prepare for reluctant motel snuggles and stuff in the next chapter...  
~aep _


	113. A Welcome Distraction

**113. A Welcome Distraction**

Their bodies pressed together lightly, side by side and Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean didn't pull away. He wished he could get inside Dean's head, understand everything that was going on in there. He couldn't stand the quiet, especially when he knew that Dean was probably yelling inside himself.

Dean felt Kelly chipping away at him like a stone statue that was already crumbling, destroying other people's lives in the process and leaving him to clean up the mess when he could hardly handle his own. He never thought he could hate someone so much.

The warmth of Sam's body next to him made him more aware of his own. His brow was tense and his jaw was so tight that he was surprised that he hadn't worn his teeth down to nubs by now. He focused on releasing the tension in each muscle. It was more work than he expected. Tightness was so ingrained into Dean's muscle memory that for a minute he wondered if he even knew how to relax. _Not sober,_he thought to himself dryly. He licked his lips without even thinking about it, working hard not to run out to the Impala and drive to that bar where he had met...

So much blood. It was like Diane's death all over again but this time there was no one left to save and no one left to save him.

He just wanted to drink himself to sleep but he couldn't will himself to get up. He felt his brother's body heat like a tether keeping him on the bed. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, he slowly slid an arm underneath Sam's shoulders and pulled him in close. Sam wrapped his arm around his brother's chest and leaned his head down so it fit perfectly under Dean's chin. Dean let his eyes fall shut and the tears that he had been holding back finally crept out of the corners of his eyes, sliding down the sides of his face.

Dean's lips were moving before he had finished forming the thought in his head. "It feels like everything's on my shoulders and I can't take it. I keep fucking it all up. I can't stop Kelly or save Tara or... I mean, you heard what Kelly said. She knew I'd come running to try to save Tara and that's what killed her. I killed her."

Sam shook his head in frustration, leaning up on his elbow to look his big brother in the eye. "Dude, she was messing with you. You did what any friend would in that situation. It's not your fault. She was gonna do this no matter what. Put the blame where it belongs - with Kelly. And I don't know what her deal is with Dad but -"

"What am I gonna blame Dad for? I don't know why Kelly's involving him in this but however you look at it...Tara's my fault."

Sam sat up more and leaned on his hand, looking Dean in the eye. "No, that's how _you_look at it, Dean. Kelly killing your friend isn't as simple as you're making it. So just stop."

"But Sam," Dean started in again but before he could continue, Sam silenced him the only way he knew how, or rather the only way he wanted to. Dean's eyes slid shut at the feel of Sam's lips against his. For once, Dean allowed himself to take solace in his brother. He needed Sam and there Sam was, offering himself up to him. Dean reached his trembling hands up to frame Sam's face. He opened his eyes slowly to see Sam opening his as well.

"I love you," Sam breathed into Dean's lips.

Dean shook his head, breaking the connection. "Why?" he whispered, the hint of a dry, disbelieving laugh coloring his voice.

Sam wanted to shake his brother by the shoulders and tell him what an idiot he was for not understanding why someone could love him. Instead, he pulled Dean's hands away from his face and held them in his own. "You don't get it," Sam muttered, unable to say anything else, though he knew that Dean wouldn't believe him even if he could. He leaned down against Dean's chest and sighed as he wrapped his arms around his big brother.

Dean threaded his fingers through Sam's hair, gently moving from root to tip and back again. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the feel of Sam against him and let nothing else in. He couldn't handle thinking about anything else. "Thanks for, you know, coming with me," he muttered into Sam's hair. Sam gave a little nod. Dean kissed the top of his head lightly. It felt like forever since they had been able to hold each other like this. The last time was when Dean had lost control and Sam had forgiven him. But that hadn't felt right. This did somehow. Sam needed to comfort Dean and Dean needed Sam to do so. And he allowed Sam to do it, for once not complaining about being the older brother and how he should be the one taking care of Sam and not the other way around. _Sometimes it's okay for us to take care of each other,_ Dean thought to himself. _It's gotta be._

Dean laid a hand under Sam's chin, guiding him upward until their lips met again, both slightly chapped but still soft and fitting together perfectly. Sam caressed his brother's face, deepening the kiss, letting himself melt into it. He could feel the tear streaks that were drying on sides of Dean's face and wiped them away. Parting his lips, he waited for Dean to enter and explore his mouth. The older boy grabbed the younger and sat them both up, accepting Sam's invitation and letting his tongue slide into his little brother's mouth. A tiny moan escaped Sam's lips and he moved closer to Dean, moving from his kneeling position next to Dean and coming to straddle his lap. Sam pressed himself against him, needing all the contact he could get and shuddering slightly when Dean's body responded, pushing forward so Sam could feel every muscle.

Sam felt himself getting hard and he felt wrong for it. Not much more than an hour ago they had found Tara dead and now all he could really think about was Dean's lips on his and how he wanted so much more. But he could feel Dean stiffening through his jeans too, making him not quite as alone in his lust. He reached a hand down, applying some light pressure to Dean's crotch. Moans that vibrated against his lips urged Sam on as he began to rub through Dean's pants.

After a minute he paused, then went for the hem of Dean's shirt, grasping it in his fingers and beginning to lift it. They broke the kiss for a moment, Dean lifting his arms so Sam could pull his shirt off of him. Dean did the same to Sam, taking a minute to look at his little brother, first studying his face and then his chest and the muscles that were already well defined and becoming more and more prominent. Dean laid a hand on Sam's chest, feeling the warm, smooth skin and heartbeat underneath his fingers. He put his free arm around Sam's waist and bit back a moan as Sam ground his crotch down into Dean's.

They lied back down, facing each other on their sides. Sam trailed his lips away from Dean's, letting them wander down to his jawline and neck. He drank in the sound of Dean's uneven breathing and the feel of Dean's hands in his hair.

Dean stopped Sam and turned him over roughly, swinging a leg over him so he was straddling him above the knees. His hands roamed over his little brother, all sloppy and desperate. Sam was startled by the sudden movement forced on him. Involuntary panic shot through him and the knee-jerk response to fight wanted to take hold. But then Dean took a deep, shuddering breath and collapsed, leaning his forehead between Sam's shoulder blades. Sam felt himself relax a little.

"I want you so fucking badly," Dean choked out, breathing into Sam's skin.

"So take me," Sam whispered, straining his neck to the side to try to see his brother over his shoulder. Dean's eyes fluttered shut at those words and what they meant.

"Don't do this, Sam," he muttered, head still firmly pressed into his brother's back.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed. "Please... don't tempt me." Sam ignored his brother's request, turning over so they were face to face. He pushed his hips up against Dean's and stared into his face. He could see the resolve melting in those heavy-lidded eyes. Sam was so sick and tired of fighting this weakness they had for each other. He knew Dean was too.

It felt like so long, too long since Dean had been able to stare into those hazel eyes, the exact same color as his own and filled with warmth and love and longing for him. He needed that warmth, needed to take it into his own being and let it fill him, shutting out the cold until all that was left was the heat vibrating inside a shared body.

Sam's hands reached Dean's pants and he began to unbutton and unzip them, all the while holding Dean's gaze. The older boy wanted to protest but couldn't and soon his own hands had started undoing Sam's jeans as well. They worked their way out of their remaining clothes, casting them aside and letting their bodies come together again, all contours and matching lines that fit so naturally.

That girl who Dean had taken from the bar less than a full day ago couldn't compare with this. She didn't even come close. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's, tongue gently running along Sam's lower lip. He let a hand glide up Sam's chest before pulling his lips away. Sam moaned impatiently. Dean smiled and ran a finger over the curve of Sam's lips, pressing softly until he gained entry and Sam took the fingertip into his mouth.

Dean had to exhale purposefully to remain even remotely calm as he watched Sam take more of his finger in his mouth and suck on it. Within seconds, Sam had moved all the way up to his knuckle. With the tip of his finger, Dean could feel the downward slope of Sam's tongue at the back of his throat.

"Get on your back," Dean whispered, his voice husky in Sam's ear. He slowly pulled his finger out of Sam's mouth and waited. "Come on," he urged quietly.

This time, Sam did as he was told, lying down with his hands gripping tightly to the pillow under his head. Dean lifted one of Sam's legs and knelt against him, putting that leg over his right shoulder and then the other over his left. Sam bit down on his lip, anticipation buzzing through him. The boys looked into each other's eyes again, something unspoken passing between them.

Sam felt the finger he had just been sucking on slowly sliding into his ass. He bit back a moan, leaving it to grow in his throat as he contracted his muscles around Dean's finger, silently asking for more. Dean withdrew the finger, spitting into his hand to slick up two more before continuing to stretch and prepare Sam. The younger boy's growing moans urged him on as he slid his index and middle finger in at once. He spread them inside of Sam, scissoring back and forth.

"Mm, come on, I'm ready," Sam muttered, eyes looking up pleadingly into Dean's. He could see the slight hesitancy in his big brother's eyes, as if taking the next step would be the thing to break him. Sam bit his lip as Dean pulled his fingers out and wavered against him. "Come on," Sam whispered. Dean didn't move. Sam chewed on his lip, trying to put his arousal aside long enough to check in with his big brother. "You okay?" he asked.

Dean gave a weak smile and nodded. He appreciated the consideration Sam showed but it also made it that much harder. He didn't want the option to back out now, he was too afraid he'd take it. He hated that he was so busy worrying about consequences that he couldn't get lost in the moment and forget everything. "I'm okay," he finally replied softly. _Just let go,_Dean thought desperately to himself. He was painfully hard by then, his cock aching for Sam. He took a deep breath before taking his dick in his hand and guiding it into Sam's ass carefully. Sam let out a little whimper.

"You good?" Dean asked quietly. Sam nodded, the hint of a smile pulling up the corners of his lips. They stayed frozen like that for a moment, allowing themselves to remember the feeling of being together and relishing it.

Sam reached a hand up and gripped Dean's shoulder, pulling him in closer. A ripple passed between them and Dean began to move slowly in and out of Sam. Their bodies writhed together, a dance of sweat and skin, pleasure and escape.

Dean picked up the pace, moving with a fierce intensity that made Sam's body shudder violently against him. Sam leaned up, wrapping his arms around Dean who continued to move in and out of him, deeper and deeper each time. Sam felt each thrust in every cell of his body. He pressed his lips hard against Dean's shoulder to keep from crying out. Lips parting involuntarily, his teeth braced against Dean's skin, not hard but enough to anchor himself. Dean moaned, running a hand up through Sam's hair.

"You - okay?" Dean grunted out between thrusts.

"Fuck yes!" Sam whispered against Dean's shoulder. He untangled his arms from around his big brother and fell back against the bed, fingers grasping at the pillow again. He was so hard that it hurt. He loved the feel of Dean moving in him but he needed more. He reached one hand down to his cock but Dean grabbed his hand, lifting it above Sam's head and pressing it down into the mattress. Sam recognized the familiar mischievous smile that played on brother's lips. Dean slowed his movement down slightly, turning his attention to Sam's dick. He wrapped a hand around the base of it. Sam's eyes slid shut, anticipation buzzing in him. He bit down on his lip as Dean began to stroke him, his fingers moving up and down his length. Dean's thumb slid over the sensitive tip and he couldn't help but grin at the blissful expression on Sam's face.

Sam's breathing was going out of control, the ring of muscle around Dean's cock contracting tightly and sending Dean's own breath out of time. "Fuck," Sam moaned out, grabbing Dean's wrist and guiding him to move faster. Dean followed the guidance his brother gave him and quickly pumped the cock in his hand as he felt tingles rise up in his own from inside of Sam.

"I'm almost there," Sam gasped out roughly.

"Me too," Dean grunted, moving his hand and his hips faster. Dean watched as Sam lost control, knowing it was a matter of seconds before he came. Sam could no longer see, hear, focus on anything other than the sensations in his body. He felt weak - a complete sense of vulnerability as he shook beneath his big brother, unable to control his body anymore. It didn't matter though. It felt too good to matter. His blood was racing through him, pounding out a beat that went faster and faster, impatiently waiting for that moment of bliss that made the rest of the world melt away. That moment when the only thing that mattered was pleasure. He clenched his jaw and moaned one final time.

Dean watched the tension ripple through his brother, the second before climax when the whole body has to contract in order to release. Sam came in strong spurts that landed across Dean's chest in glistening stripes. His cock twitched and one more weak spurt burst forth, pooling in Dean's fist as he gave Sam one final stroke. Dean groaned loudly and came a second later.

Sam felt the thick, warm liquid fill him, making his dick twitch. He wanted more but he was completely spent. Closing his eyes, he rode out the waves of pleasure that were ebbing away. Dean pulled out, rubbing a hand over the come on his chest before allowing himself to collapse beside his brother.

They lied panting, bodies pressed together, sweat and come mingling and their hands roaming feebly. Too tired to really explore anymore but not wanting to stop touching each other nonetheless. Dean reached over Sam to the nightstand and shut off the lamp, collapsing back on his spot on the bed and curling his fist on Sam's chest.

Sam opened his eyes and wrapped a hand around Dean's fist. The fist loosened, unclenching and intertwining its fingers with the other boy's hand. Sam watched their interwoven fingers as if it were some fascinating show.

"G'night," Dean muttered.

"Night," Sam replied softly, letting out a slow exhale and shutting his eyes.

* O *

The sun streamed in through the curtains, burning orange through Dean's eyelids. He buried his face in his pillow and grunted softly, wishing for sleep to pull him back under. He started at the feel of movement beside him until he remembered the events of last night. He shut his eyes more tightly. He didn't know what to think or feel or even just how to move. His body was aching from exhaustion but he wanted to get up and pace, or drive, or just clear his head any way he could.

To say the night had been tragic and confusing would be an understatement. It also wouldn't be the whole truth. Because last night had been wonderful too, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He sighed and slowly rolled over, stretching and working his tired eyes open.

Sam was watching him, his head propped up on his hand. Dean couldn't handle the look on his face. Nervous and hopeful and sad and worried and a thousand other things... things Dean shouldn't be able to read from studying Sam's face for two seconds. But he couldn't help it, he knew him too well. He couldn't imagine a time in his life when he wouldn't know Sam like that. Dean pulled himself out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

Sam lied back in bed and listened to the raining sound of the shower. A few minutes later the water shut off and Dean stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low on his waist. He clutched it, ensuring it didn't slip off as he reached down into his bag and pulled out some clean clothes. He balled the clothes up in his free hand and returned to the bathroom without a word to Sam.

"Morning," Sam said when Dean came back out. His voice was scratchy from too little sleep.

"Mm-hm," Dean said as way of response as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to slip his boots on. Sam wanted to reach out to his brother but he stayed where he was on his side of the bed, not knowing how he should be behaving after last night.

"You hungry?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at Sam.

"Uh, yeah," Sam said. He cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing a loose sheet off the bed and wrapping it around his waist.

"'Kay, I'll be back soon. Green pepper omelet, right?" Dean said, rising and grabbing his keys off the floor.

Sam nodded and watched his brother leave the room. He sat down again on the bed, hand resting on the twisted blanket. He stared down at it for a minute before rising again and going to take his own shower.

As he adjusted the water to the right temperature he had a moment of fear that Dean wouldn't come back - that he would just leave him there. He shook the thought from his head. John was more likely to pull something like that than Dean was, though given all that had happened last night, he wasn't so sure. But within twenty minutes Dean returned carrying a brown paper bag under his arm. He unloaded the bag, handing a container and plastic utensils to Sam. Sam pushed his still-wet hair out of his face and took the food from Dean.

"Thanks," Sam said, opening the container and digging into the omelet inside. Dean turned the TV on to the news station and pulled out his breakfast, taking a seat at the end of the bed and watching the news segment intently.

"I don't know if anyone's found her yet," Dean said to himself. Sam looked up from his food, studying Dean's hunched shoulders from behind.

"We should prob'ly get going," Sam said after a minute of commercials. Dean nodded, shoveling the rest of his hash browns into his mouth and dumping the container in the little trash bin by the television.

"Yeah. Let's go," Dean said.

* * *

_-A/N: As y'all very well know, it's been forever since I've written a sex scene so I hope that was okay. Eek. lol. Tell me what you think. More on the way.  
~aep _


	114. Complicated

**114. Complicated**

The Impala wended its way through back roads into Ohio. The closer they got to their temporary home, the more both Winchester brothers dreaded it. Dean stared straight at the road ahead and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music playing softly in the car. Sam's gaze was lost in the wispy clouds that were turning a surreal pink as the sun set. He pulled his sights back to earth, studying all the little imperfections in the side of the road: cracks and faded paint.

"Dean?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes fixed out his window.

"What?" Dean said gruffly, his tone making it clear he wasn't in the mood to talk.

Sam struggled for a moment, knowing that if he said what he really wanted to, it would infuriate his brother. He knew it was selfish for his concerns to be focused on the two of them instead of Tara, but he couldn't help it. He took a deep breath before letting his words spill out in a rush. "I'm just, I just kinda can't help but wonder if last night was only 'cause you were upset and you needed to take your mind off -"

"Oh, come on, Sam!" Dean worked to keep from shouting. He saw Sam shrink back in his seat and knew he had to explain. "No," he began more calmly, squeezing the steering wheel before turning it to pull over to the side of the road. He cut the engine and looked at Sam, who was squinting from the light of the setting sun. Dean studied the fading light playing across Sam's features for a minute. He exhaled slowly and spoke. "I mean, yeah, that was part of it, but... no, Sam. It meant more than that." It was painfully hard to say those words out loud. Still, once he had, he felt a little weight lift off of him. He could see a flicker of hope in Sam's eyes; a weak beacon cutting through the growing darkness. Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and they both sat in silence for a few minutes.

The quiet pressed in on his ears. He swung his door open and got out of the car, coming around to rest against the hood of it. Sam went after him. Dean shook his head slightly before speaking again. "It meant more than... 'Cause, you know what?" He stalled for a minute, unsure if he was really going to say what he wanted to. He could feel Sam's gaze urging him on. He sighed and spoke. "Fuck it. I don't care. I just don't anymore. I can't. Maybe I'll never be okay with... this, us. But I'm fucking done tryin' to ignore it."

"Dean... are you saying -?" Sam said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Dean burst into laughter, a sound that was choked and tight but genuine. "Yeah." One word was enough. He knew Sam understood, but just to prove his point, he grabbed Sam and kissed him.

Sam felt a fluttering sensation tickling at his stomach and his knees wobbling beneath him. He pulled away from Dean after a moment, clearing his throat and working to calm his heartbeat. He wished he could stay there, pressed against the hood of the car with Dean's arms wrapped around him. But Sam didn't want to allow himself to get swept up in the idea of giving in. There were too many things standing in the way of that little glimmer of happiness.

He needed to focus on helping Dean repay Kelly for all she had done before he could think about anything else. He couldn't juggle hope alongside the fear of Kelly's next move. Dean wouldn't be completely his until she was gone anyway. Sam saw the way a hunt always consumed Dean and their father, even when there wasn't a personal stake in it.

"We should focus on the hunt before anything else... It's too complicated otherwise," Sam said.

"Yeah, you're right," Dean agreed, impressed and a little disappointed that his brother was being so practical. He was just a teenager. Sometimes he was a whiny little brat, but then sometimes he was more centered than Dean. All Dean could think about was losing himself in Sam, stealing a little more time before they had to face Kelly. He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Let's go." The two of them returned to their seats without another word. The Impala rumbled into life.

* O *

John tapped his fingers against the desk he was seated at, waiting for his sons to return. His youngest son knew just how furious he was at Dean for taking the Impala, but that hadn't stopped him from jumping in and running off with his big brother the moment Dean had gotten back. John shook his head and tried to focus on the newspaper before him, looking for something to distract him until his children got home. He turned the page and a voice behind him made him twist violently in his seat.

"Hey John, remember Dean's friend, Tara?" Kelly stood in the center of the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest and her usual cocky grin firmly in place.

"What about her?" John asked, folding the newspaper and throwing it down on the desk before standing to properly face her.

"When your kids get back home they'll give you the news that I killed her," Kelly said matter-of-factly.

John clenched his fists at his sides, wondering what game she was playing this time. "Why the hell would you do that?" he asked.

"'Cause I can," Kelly said, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "And because your son is really gonna be wanting some revenge." She tapped a finger against her bottom lip thoughtfully. "See, I wanna know if you're gonna help him or if you're gonna let it slide." She drew out the last word, studying him intently, genuine curiosity in her eyes.

"Now why would I let it slide?" John asked through clenched teeth, though he thought he knew what was coming next.

"I have more information for you about the demon that killed your wife," she said in a scandalous whisper, the corners of her lips twitching with silent laughter.

John shook his head, infuriated that his suspicion had been right. "You manipulative bitch," he muttered under his breath. "You must really have a death wish."

"I'm already dead, John," Kelly said with an exasperated little chuckle. She took a step closer to him, placing her hands on her hips and studying him closely.

"You know what I mean," John growled. She nodded with a mock sympathetic smile.

"Alright, so what's it gonna be?" Kelly asked. She held one hand out in front of her. "Information for you to get your own stale revenge or," she held her other hand out, "Work to help your son take down the current big bad in your lives. You know, what's plaguing you here and now... not some monster from your past." John said nothing.

"Oh, come on, John! Your own ambition or your son's trust and respect?" Kelly gave a low whistle, hands dropping to her sides. "Wow, Johnny. Mary's been dead for ages an-"

"Don't you dare say her name," John growled.

"Ooh, easy to strike a nerve with you, huh? Listen to me - Mary's been dead for a while. Let it go already! Tara just kicked it a day ago. Hell, she's still lying in her apartment, all bled out and starting to stink up the place."

"You're sick," John grunted through clenched teeth. Kelly laughed and gave a little shrug.

"Maybe. But your kids are gonna be home soon and they already know how fucked up I am. I think now they're gonna see that you are too."

"You're making the assumption that I'm gonna go for more information on my wife's -"

"Well, aren't you?" Kelly asked. John faltered. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She shook her head. "Think about it. I'll be back when you've decided." She disappeared, leaving John with his fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails were digging into his palms.

* O *

Dean idled at the edge of the grounds to the Wright farm. Facing his father meant dealing with John's inevitable anger. It also meant really dealing with Tara's death and as much as he wanted her avenged, the thought of taking Kelly down was daunting, demoralizing. He had already failed so many times. He didn't know how he was going to do it this time. He didn't know how he was going to make it stick. But the strongest reason for not wanting to go back to the Wright house immediately wasn't about Kelly. It was Sam.

Their lapse back into intimacy was certainly triggered by a horrible event but now that it had happened he didn't want to go back to thinking of Sam as part of the family unit. It was easier when it was just the two of them. He didn't have to factor John into the equation. He didn't need to be reminded by an outside force that Sammy was his little brother. It was deeply ingrained into his subconscious. Every cell in his body tingled with the knowledge that Sam was his little brother, his to protect, always. And if Dean was honest, he loved having that strong of a bond with Sam. But seeing John would just be a reminder as to how the only thing Sam should be to him was blood. Blood - a physical, familial tie. Not a romantic one. He let out a low stream of air and forced himself not to over-analyze his feelings. Any more introspection and he'd need a drink to take it all away. He finally pulled his foot off the brake and drove down to the house.

Sam sank down in his seat as the engine cut out and John walked towards them from the house. His jaw was set and his gait purposeful. He stopped at the driver's side, pulling Dean's door open and yanking him from the car by the collar of his jacket.

"What do you think you're trying to pull?" John growled into Dean's face as Sam got out of the car and came to stand beside his father and brother.

"I'm sorry, sir. It was an emergency," Dean said softly.

"You talk to me when you have an emergency. You don't just take off!" John said, doing all he could to keep from outright yelling in his son's face. He released Dean's collar and took a step back, swiping a hand over the nape of his neck and taking a breath. "Kelly paid me a visit. Told me what she did," he said.

"So then you know why I took the car, sir," Dean said.

"Yeah, Dean, I know why!" John said, frustration seeping from his words. "Look, I'm sorry about your friend but if you'd listened to me, obeyed me, this never would've -"

"Are you blaming Tara's murder on Dean?" Sam interjected, disbelief coloring his voice.

John looked over at his youngest son. "Of, of course not. But... I've told you both, time and time again, you can't get close to someone and expect it to turn out alright," he said.

Sam shook his head, gritting his teeth and walking around his father and brother to the house. John called out to him but he ignored it, focusing instead on the sound of John and Dean's footsteps on the grass as they followed after him. He pushed through the door, into the hall. He had one foot on the first step of the stairway before John grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Sam yanked his wrist out of John's grip.

"Can you save the scolding for after you've helped us kill Kelly?" Sam asked. Dean held back the smile that threatened to flicker across his face, not willing to admit that he wanted to ask the same thing of John. Their father seemed to deflate in front of them. Silence permeated the space for a moment until John cleared his throat and nodded slowly.

"So you'll help us kill her?" Sam pressed.

"Yeah," John said, his voice suddenly as quiet as tires crunching over gravel. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Kelly made it sound like some sort of test. Like you might not help us... Why would she think that?" Sam asked.

John bristled at the tone of curious accusation in his son's voice. "I don't know. She's been keen to mess with our heads any chance she can get. Don't put too much stock in it," John said. "Just, just get some sleep and we'll deal with this in the morning." Sam knew better than to ask why John was letting them off so easy, still, he couldn't help but wonder why. Getting his kids to bed at a decent hour was not one of John's fatherly concerns; keeping them in line, keeping them alive was all he cared about.

There was a moment of silence between the three of them before they dispersed: Sam, upstairs to his room, Dean to the living room, and John last, following Sam's path upstairs but stopping at his own room. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on the bed. This time, Kelly didn't need to announce her presence to make it known. John felt her there, lurking in a shadowy corner.

"So you made your choice," Kelly said, a small note of surprise in her voice as she stepped forward out of the shadows.

"I did," John said simply.

"That's it. You're gonna give it all up to kill me?" she asked.

"Give what up? Your only bargaining chip was information that I have no way of verifying."

"John, it's not about verifying. It's about following a fresh lead for a very, very cold case. I'm not lying about what I've learned. I could tell you... everything."

John remained silent. He couldn't trust her. He had already let his guard down around her for too long, used her as an informant when he should have just taken her out. He had failed as a hunter to ever let her live so long. She had strung him along with false hope. She had distracted him and made it so he didn't try his hardest to kill her. He wasn't going to fall for it again. He told himself she didn't have any information. He had to convince himself of that. Because if he couldn't, he would let her go. Just the slightest hope of any lead, or even just a hint and he would let her go. He would if it meant finding what killed Mary.

Kelly watched him closely, her eyes drinking him in like she could hear his every thought. "Hold fast to that resolve, John. Once I'm gone it's gonna eat at you. That nagging voice. That little part of you that'll wonder if I could've helped you."

"I don't need your help," John assured her.

"Fine," she hissed.

* O *

Dean took a deep breath and laid his head down against the stiff couch cushions. Being back in the house seemed to dictate that he return to his unspoken habit of isolating himself downstairs and away from his brother. Dean lied there for a minute, running a hand over his face before slowly sitting up. With their father in the same household, he knew he should probably keep himself removed from Sam but he didn't want to.

He crept upstairs, slipping into the room that he used to share with Sam and silently locking the door behind him. Sam stirred in the darkened room. Dean was just able to make out his little brother's eyes open blearily to look at him. They shared a smile before Dean approached Sam's bed.

"We should focus on the hunt -" Sam protested half-heartedly.

"Right, yeah. Well, we'll start that bright and early tomorrow morning. But, uh, we don't have to worry about it tonight," Dean whispered, slipping out of his jeans and leaving them discarded on the floor.

Sam shifted to make room for Dean to lie down, lifting the blanket so he could get under it. Their bodies pressed together in silence, fitting snugly like two interlocking puzzle pieces. Sam felt Dean run a hand down his thigh, slow and firm. He shifted to face his big brother, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight. He leaned his head in against Dean's chest and sighed.

Dean kissed the top of his head, sliding his free arm under Sam and pulling him in closer. The feel of Sam's chest rising and falling against his sent mixed messages of comfort and excitement through his body. His breathing fell into perfect sync with his little brother's. He felt Sam's grip on his hand loosen before guiding him to rest his palm against Sam's hipbone. Dean slid his hand over Sam's hip and down to the curve of his ass before moving to the small of his back and resting there.

Sam reciprocated by pressing a hand lightly to Dean's chest, his fingers itching to feel the skin beneath the t-shirt. He moved his hand down to the hem of his shirt, ready to lift it up when he paused. He slipped a finger under the waistline of Dean's boxers, and then another and another. Dean exhaled slowly, turning from his side onto his back. Sam took his cue to slip his entire hand into Dean's boxers, wrapping his fingers around the base of Dean's cock and slowly stroking his way up. He felt it stiffen in his hand. He circled his thumb over the head before sitting up so he could pull Dean's boxers off. Sam climbed over Dean and knelt down on the floor by the edge of the bed.

"Come here," he whispered. Dean sat up, turning to Sam and clenching his jaw as he felt Sam's lips envelop the tip of his cock. He bit back a moan as Sam leaned in, taking more of him into his mouth. Dean pressed the knuckles of one hand against his lips to keep from crying out, while he laced the other through Sam's hair. The simple touch urged Sam on, making him work harder and harder, head bobbing up and down, drawing waves of delicious anticipation through Dean.

"Wait, w- hang on," Dean whispered. Sam leaned back on his heels, looking up at his brother and licking his lips. "Oh, Christ," Dean muttered. "Look, we can't... not here. I'm not gonna be able to keep it together if you go any further." Sam nodded, getting up off the floor and taking a seat next to Dean. He leaned his head against Dean's shoulder.

"Well, what are you gonna do about that?" Sam asked, nodding at Dean's hard-on.

"Shut up," Dean said with a grin.

"Lie down," Sam ordered. Dean leaned back onto his elbows. Sam pushed him onto his back, climbing back over him to lie beside him. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it towards Dean. "Bite it if you need to," he said. He pulled the blanket up over the both of them before reaching down and circling his fingers around Dean's dick again. He slid up and down the length, slowly at first. Soon, he began building to a quicker pace, making Dean's breathing ragged and wild.

"Fuck," Dean gasped out softly, biting down on the pillow as Sam finished him off. His body jolted involuntarily as he rode out his climax. He sank into the sheets, his entire being happy and relaxed, the sensation made all the more precious by how fleeting it always was. After a minute or so, he worked to get his breathing back under control. His eyes locked with Sam's who was watching him intently. He wrapped a hand behind Sam's head and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips played against each other for a moment, tongues meeting and exploring, until Sam began a trail of kisses down Dean's jaw and neck. He kept going until he was completely under the blanket. Dean gasped as he felt Sam's tongue flick over his tip, tasting the come there that was not yet dry. He lifted up the blanket. "What are you doing now?" Dean asked with a little hiss.

"Just... cleaning up," Sam said before yanking the covers back down over his head. Dean groaned into the pillow as Sam's tongue flitted over his skin, drinking in the pearly strands he had pulled from Dean just moments earlier.

"Oh, fuck. Sam, god," he let out a slow, uneven breath, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation. Then he forced them open again, trying to strengthen what little resolve he had. "Okay, okay, look you gotta stop. Please, Sammy, I'm gonna get hard again," Dean begged. Sam poked out from under the covers, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Please," Dean whispered. The glint faded and Sam moved up to lie down next to Dean again.

Dean felt around for his boxers and found them, twisted beneath him. He slipped them back on, sitting up on his elbows and looking at Sam who gave him a little smile. Before he had made any conscious decision, Dean realized his hand was moving down Sam's body, pausing at the elastic on his boxers before coming to rest his hand over Sam's crotch. The younger boy's eyes fluttered shut as Dean rubbed through the thin fabric. He could feel Sam hardening through the cloth. His fingers searched for the slit in the boxers, finding it and slipping his hand inside.

A tiny moan pressed inside Sam's mouth, desperate to break free. He chewed on his lower lip to keep quiet. Dean shoved the pillow at him. "Bite down if you need to," he mimicked, before gently tugging Sam's cock out of the slit in his underwear. He slid one finger slowly up the underside of Sam's dick, coming to rest at the head and circling his fingertip there. He watched as Sam's eyebrows knit together and his hand clamped down on the pillow, gripping it tightly. Dean pulled his hand away, making Sam whimper quietly, desperate for more contact. Dean grinned and wrapped his fingers loosely around the base, gently tightening his grip and starting with short, little strokes. With each one, he moved higher up the shaft and then back down. He could feel the blood pumping through Sam, making his cock pulsate slightly. He wanted to bring him over the edge. Dean knew Sam was close, with his eyes shut tight and his teeth digging into the pillow.

Sam dug his heels into the mattress, a tingling sensation of suspense building from his toes and into his legs. He yanked the edge of the pillow he had been biting on away from his face, gritting his teeth as he turned onto his side so Dean and him were parallel facing each other. He reached a shaky hand down to Dean's and urged him to go faster. Dean obliged, only stalling momentarily when he felt Sam reach down and begin stroking him. Dean picked up the pace as Sam rubbed him through the cotton of his boxers. He felt Sam's fingers slide through the slit in them, just as he had done to Sam, and pull out his dick. Sam gave a little grin of satisfaction with how easily he was able to make Dean hard again. They found a pattern, stroking each other in time, eyes locked. There hearts pounded in their chests, as if they were trying to break free from their bodies. Sam leaned in and pressed his lips hard against Dean, allowing a moan to vibrate between them.

"Nearly -" Sam gasped, his hot breath tickling Dean's lips.

"Me too," Dean whispered. He slammed his lips hard against Sam's as they continued stroke to each other. Sam darted his tongue into Dean's mouth, tasting him for a minute before withdrawing, his whole body tensing and convulsing against Dean as he came.

Sam's entire body was no longer in control, shaking madly. Dean buried a groan in his throat as Sam's hand jerked wildly. He came, his own body trembling beside Sam's. He pulled his hand out from under the covers, there were streaks of come on it. Sam pulled his hand out too, grabbing Dean's and bringing it up to his face. He kissed Dean's hand, parting his lips and letting himself taste the both of them there.

Dean pulled Sam in for a kiss, tasting the saltiness on his tongue. They stayed like that for a few moments, their heartbeats only just starting to calm down.

Finally, Sam broke away, barely able to keep his eyes open anymore. "Night," he muttered thickly. His eyelids slid shut. Dean sighed and smiled, studying the flush in Sam's cheeks and the little smile on his lips for a minute before responding.

"G'night," Dean said, closing his eyes and hugging Sam tightly.

* * *

_-A/N: In which the author finally stops apologizing for taking forever to update and instead, offers up some smut.  
Okay, well, a little apology. I was so planning to post on my 20th birthday (Jan. 31) and then... it just didn't happen. God, I'm old. Anyway, I finally finished this chapter, so enjoy. Let me know what you think.  
I'm on a roll so hopefully I'll have the next chapter to you guys before months and months pass. Eek.  
~aep _


	115. Need

**115. Need**

Dean's mind sank into the realm of dreaming. He was walking in a field under the pale light of a full moon. He saw a little boy curled up and crying in the tall grass. He rushed over, needing to protect the boy from whatever was upsetting him so much. The boy's shoulders heaved with his sobs. "Sam?" Dean asked, resting a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. The child looked up but instead of Sam's face staring at him, it was his own. He couldn't have been more than five years old, with floppy, golden brown hair and a sprinkling of fine freckles across his face. Dean stared at his younger self, unsure of what to say or do. When Sam was upset as a child, Dean knew exactly what to do to comfort him. What could he do for himself?

"You're a bad man," The young boy told Dean, pointing his little index finger straight at him.

"What?" Dean asked his younger self, stomach clenching around the statement.

"You let her die. You're a bad man," the boy explained. It wasn't a judgment, just a truth the boy held close to him.

Dean shook his head, "I didn't mean for that to happen," he said quietly.

"But it did," his younger self said.

"I know," Dean said, angrily wiping at the prickling in his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around. Nobody was there. He turned back to his childhood self but the boy had disappeared. Dean felt the hand on his shoulder again. He grabbed at it, squeezing it tightly and yanking the person it belonged to in front of him.

"Sam, what the hell is going on?" Dean asked, releasing his brother's wrist.

"You're dreaming," Sam explained simply.

"_You're dreaming,_" Dean mocked, annoyed at his brother's nonchalant answer. Then he paused to consider it for a moment. "Okay, yeah, that actually makes sense. Carry on, then." Sam grabbed Dean's hand, chuckling slightly. Sam's laugh made Dean smile despite the strangeness of the scene.

Sam squeezed Dean's hand and guided him out of the dark field and through a thicket of trees. Dean worked to navigate through them without letting the branches grab at him. He was clumsy, unable to avoid trees' fingers scratching at his face and pinching his clothes. Sam brought him out of the woods, into a dazzlingly bright city. Stark and painfully white, beige, and gray. Dean squinted against it. "Keep up," Sam said.

"I'm coming," Dean muttered. The two of them jogged across three city blocks before Sam came to a halt in front of a pale blue door, bleached by the scorching sun. Dean stopped just in time not to crash into his little brother. Sam reached the doorknob, holding it in his hand for a moment as if he was memorizing the feel of it before twisting it. The door pushed open into a dark hallway. Sam nodded for Dean to go inside. Relieved to be getting out of the burning white sun, Dean quickly stepped inside.

The door slammed shut with a bang louder than a gunshot. He spun around to see he was alone. "Sam!" he shouted, banging against the door and tugging at the doorknob. Silence. "SAM!" He kicked at the door and called his brother's name again.

"Dean." A flicker of blind hope flared in him. But it was quickly extinguished by the realization that the voice that had said his name didn't belong to Sam. He turned away from the door to see Tara standing in the dim hallway. She gave him a little smile.

"Contrary to that little voice in your head, you're not a bad man," she said.

"Uh, right. Thanks. Where's Sam?" Dean asked flat-out. His worry for Sam clouded any happiness he would have otherwise felt at seeing Tara. But his focus was on losing another person he cared about, the person he cared most about. Even though it was a dream, he couldn't help but feel the panic rising in him like bile. He couldn't stay separated from Sam.

"You don't need to worry about him right now. He'll be in your arms when you wake up," Tara assured him. Dean stopped to let her words wash over him, suddenly calming him.

He let out a slow breath. "So... is this the dream or is this... is it really you?"

She smiled and stepped forward, grabbing him in a hug. He sighed into her. She pulled back after a moment, resting a hand on his cheek. Dean shook his head and pulled away from her, suddenly overwhelmed. He didn't want to enjoy her touch if he couldn't even be sure if she was real. If Tara was just some part of his dream, he had no right to conjure her up, some sympathetic figment of his imagination. And if her spirit had actually found a way to make contact, he didn't deserve her coming to comfort him.

"Look, you're close. So don't give up or let her distract you, alright? It's all a game to her. She doesn't even care about the outcome," Tara whispered. A floorboard creaked from somewhere else in the house. Tara froze, her body tense and alert. "I have to go. You're gonna be okay, Dean," she gave him a weak little smile, pressing her hand to his cheek again before turning and leaving through a door that led off the hallway. Dean followed after her but she was gone by the time he entered the room.

"Bye," he muttered to the room at large.

"Oh, that's right." Dean snapped around to see Kelly leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest. "You never did get to say goodbye to Tara. Well, I guess that was better than nothing, right?"

He chose not to respond to her words, though they made him bristle. "'Hey Kelly, as great as it is to see you, I'm really ready for the acid trip to end now," Dean said through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

Kelly laughed. "Fine."

Dean jolted up in bed, eyes wide and staring blindly around the dark room. Sam shifted beside him but didn't wake. Dean stared at the dim light coming from the window, allowing his eyes to adjust in the darkness as he caught his breath. He slipped out of bed, moving to stand by the window and stare out at the black field outside, much like the one in his dream. He felt the warmth in the room slowly slipping away so when Kelly spoke, he wasn't surprised.

"What a dirty little boy your brother is," Kelly whispered. Dean turned slowly to face her, a rotten feeling spreading through his insides. She was perched on the edge of the bed he had just risen from, inches from where Sam was sleeping. Dean clenched his fists at his sides and watched as she leaned down and gently pushed a strand of hair behind Sam's ear. Sam shifted again but remained asleep. She looked back to Dean, rising slowly. "I'm impressed. He's very..." she dug around for the right word, "Precocious."

"Wait - before? You... you were watching?" Dean asked, horrified by the spark in Kelly's eyes.

"Yup. I must say, I felt a blush creep up a couple times there. Good stuff. Filthy, _filthy_stuff," Kelly said with a smile. Dean felt sick to his stomach knowing she had seen Sam and him together like that. And he felt sicker with each word she said to him about it.

"He's so... hungry for you," Kelly continued thoughtfully. "He needs you on such a deep level. In so many ways. And you need him too. It's sorta beautiful, really. Well, repulsive actually, but still... I can sympathize."

Dean glared at her, hating the implied comparison between himself with Sam and her with Eric. Kelly rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Aw, don't look so frustrated, sweetie. Hell, if I were you I'd be thanking my lucky stars to have a brother like - well..." she gave Dean a pointed glare before returning to her nonchalant manner. "Sammy here, he's a special little boy. Eager to please, to show his affection. And he does a pretty good job of it, doesn't he? He just _loves_your cock, sucking it, jerking-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean hissed, his blood boiling in his veins.

"Oh, cute," she chuckled. "Are you defending little Sammy's virtue or are you disgusted by the vulgarity of what you two do to each other? The impropriety of it? I didn't think a guy like you could be rattled by a little dirty talk. It's hard to make you blush. Ooh, and yet..." she grinned, taking a few steps closer to Dean and watching him closely. He could feel his cheeks burning. Another few steps towards him. Waves of cold radiated from her, chilling him.

"Or maybe you're stuck on the big words. Do we need to have a little vocab lesson with the high school dropout?"

"Shut up," Dean said again.

"Still master of the stinging comeback, aren't you, Dean?" Kelly said. Her words grated at him but they were nothing to the stinging cold that she was giving off. He could feel it deep in his muscles. He refused to back away even though he was aching to gain some distance.

"You know, at his age he's already smarter than you," Kelly said, glancing to where Sam was sprawled on the bed. She turned back to Dean. He saw her eyes linger on the way his jaw involuntarily clenched. "Yeah, you do know that. Can you imagine what he'll think of you in a couple of years when he realizes that he let his emotions cloud his common sense? Will he still love you? Or will he have realized what a colossal waste of time he spent on you? Do you think he'll really stick around? Do you think he won't realize his potential and how it goes far beyond what you could even dream about?" She leaned in, pressing against him to whisper, "Dean, you better enjoy it while you still have him. 'Cause one of these days he'll be walking out the door."

Had she somehow planted those thoughts in Dean's head before? Weeds wrapping around inside his brain and causing those half-formed wordless thoughts in his mind? Had they already been there? Had she known to play on that? Or was Dean just that obvious? Sometimes Kelly seemed to understand him on a level that he, himself didn't. Her insight was terrifying but more than that, it was frustrating in a way that made his gut tighten and his teeth grit.

"Is that it?" Dean asked after a moment, the spite clear in his voice. He tightened his jaw even more to keep his teeth from chattering while he waited for her answer. She stepped away from him and the relief of her form gaining some distance from him caused a palpable shift in temperature, still cold, but no longer the feeling of unmelting ice lining his skin.

"Mm... yeah. No need to beat a dead horse," Kelly said with a little shrug. The half-smile she gave him showed that she knew she'd succeeded in her goal. Her words were curling around inside Dean's brain in maddening circles. She reached forward and caressed his cheek, making him jerk away before she disappeared, fading in the darkened room.

Dean forced himself to breathe for a moment before trying to do anything else. His skin was crawling. What Tara had told him in his dream resurfaced in his mind. _"You're close. So don't give up or let her distract you."_He hoped she was right. He couldn't let anything distract him anymore. He was about to slip back into bed next to Sam when he changed his mind. He crept to the bed on the other side of the room and rolled himself into it. He sighed and closed his eyes, desperately ordering himself to sleep. At some point, not long before dawn, he was finally able to.

Sunlight broke in through the grimy window, slanting to one side of the room. Dean registered the growing light behind closed eyelids and opened them to see the warmth that was bathing his brother. Sam started to stretch involuntarily. His arms straightened out, making him realize that Dean was no longer lying next to him. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around blearily. Dean slowly brought himself up to a sitting position and gave Sam a little wave.

"Hey," Sam rasped in an early-morning voice. "Why'd you move?" Sam asked. Dean was about to respond when a knock on the door made them both tense.

"You boys up?" John called through the door.

"Uh, yes sir," Dean called, jumping up from his bed and crossing to open the door. The light in the room weakened as a cloud passed by outside.

"Let's get to work," John said, one hand braced against the door frame and the other gripping Kelly's journal. Dean nodded and followed his father downstairs, casting a quick glance back to Sam who stumbled out of bed and trailed behind the both of them.

* * *

_-A/N: Um... can you tell that I love me some dream sequences? 'Cause I do. Anyway, as always, tell me what you think! Also, look at me not taking months and months to post the next chapter! *pats self on back*  
~aep _


	116. Grave

**116. Grave**

Copies of old newspaper clippings and files accumulated over time had already been spread out by John on the formica table in the kitchen. The three Winchesters each took a seat around the table. Sam pulled a manilla folder towards himself while Dean slid copies and clippings of articles closer to him and John opened up Kelly's diary. The rustling of pages was the only sound that passed between the three of them.

The kitchen grew darker and darker as storm clouds gathered outside. By eleven, the combined gloom permeating the house and the unsavory subject matter of their research was enough to make them all itch for anything else to do.

John lowered the journal, pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a moment. He set the book down on the table and let out a sigh before speaking. "I'm going out for a food run. Any requests?"

"Uh, I'll take a cheeseburger and fries," Dean piped up quickly before his father could take the offer off the table.

"Salad. Greek or Caesar or whatever they have." Sam said with a shrug. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Anything else?" John asked, eyebrow raised towards his youngest son. Sam shook his head. "Alright, I'll be back soon. Keep working," John ordered.

"Yes sir," Dean said.

When the door shut behind John, Dean picked the journal up, examining the page his father had been on. He skimmed over the words, hesitant to really allow himself to take in their unpleasant meaning. He set it aside after a minute and returned to the articles that he had already read and reread.

"Can I take a look at that?" Sam asked, pointing to the journal.

Dean grabbed it before Sam could reach for it. "I don't want you reading this shit -"

"You don't have to protect me from a _diary_, Dean. Besides, fresh pair of eyes and all that. You never know," Sam said with a little shrug, holding his hand out further for the book. Dean absentmindedly tapped his index finger against the cover before finally handing it over to his little brother.

"Thanks," Sam muttered, taking the book and flipping it open.

Dean resumed studying the articles in front of him, every once in a while casting a glance over at his little brother to appraise his growing look of discomfort. The further into the diary Sam got, the more tense his jaw became. Dean wanted to take the diary from Sam and break the silence with an 'I told you so', but he showed some restraint.

"Did you get to this part yet?" Sam asked, pointing to a passage in one of the later pages. Dean skimmed it over and shook his head. "It talks about how she and Eric killed their dad. Sounds pretty bloody. And not just his blood. He fought back. Look." Sam pointed to a paragraph a little way down the page.

_Bastard fought back, scratched me up. Eric pulled him off me. Still, he did some damage. Shredded the skin on my arms, left claw marks. Eric bandaged me up once we were done with him. I think it was the first time I've ever seen Dad scared. First time he ever pleaded with us. I watched him beg for mercy. Like we used to. It was so fucking satisfying to see the tables turned on him. Eric soaked his hands with bleach to take care of any trace DNA he might have gotten from me when he scratched me._

"Sam, this... this might be it. I mean, I don't know what else it could be," Dean said, hardly allowing himself to believe it. "I mean, if they missed a trace... her father's body could be what's keeping her here."

"It could be a long shot," Sam said bracingly.

"It's the only one we've got."

* O *

"Come on, I'm the one who found the lead and you're not gonna let me pursue it?" Sam whined from the backseat of the Impala. If it were any other hunt, he'd prefer to be in school but after all his family had gone through on this one, he needed to see it through.

"You've got school. Dean and I'll handle this," John said dismissively as he pulled up to the high school.

"Fine," Sam muttered, shouldering his bag and slamming the car door behind him. He sighed and made his way into the fluorescent-buzzing hallways of the school. He looked back through the glass double doors in time to see the Impala pulling away from the curb and taking off.

John flashed a badge at the clerk at the county records desk. "Yes, I'm looking for the burial records for Donald Wright. Murdered in his home on February eleventh, 1996. I have an exhumation order but I need the location," John told the man.

"Exhumation order?"

"Yeah. Some new information has come to light that we're hoping to back up with DNA evidence," John reeled off quickly. The man nodded and excused himself for a moment to go search through the records in the back room.

John slid back into the driver's seat, handing Dean a copy of the burial information. "Awesome," Dean said as he took the paper. He paused midway down the page. "Buried in lot F, plot number 697."

"Okay, we'll find the plot now, then come back after nightfall to dig it up," John said as he turned onto the highway.

Half an hour later, the Impala rumbled to a halt across the street from the massive state cemetery. "F, six-nine-seven," John repeated.

"Yup," Dean said as the two of them got out of the car and crossed the street.

"Okay, let's split up to cover more ground," John ordered. Dean nodded and the two of them set off in different directions.

Nearly an hour of wandering around the graveyard. The lots weren't marked so they had to systematically go up and down the endless rows of graves, reading each marker.

It was hardly noticeable. Dean had almost walked past it, would have if his boot hadn't caught on its edge. Not a sleek granite stone like most of the other headstones. He let out a low stream of air and knelt down to get a closer look at the worn number set in a tiny wooden plaque no bigger than his hand. Set in the ground, it was almost completely obscured by the grass around it. But it was there - 697; Donald Wright, a man reduced to a number. Considering what he'd done to his children, being forgotten in a graveyard did not seem a fitting enough punishment.

Dean straightened up. "Dad! I found it!" he called to his father who was about fifty yards away. He waved his father over.

John jogged over to his son. "Alright. You go get your brother. I'll stay here. Make sure Kelly doesn't try to pull anything."

* O *

As Sam followed the throngs of students out of the school, he spotted Dean leaning against the passenger's side of the car. Dean waved him over then opened the door for him before going around to the driver's side.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked.

"Cemetery. You ready to burn some bones?" Dean asked with a grin. Sam nodded vigorously and they took off.

"Any visits from Kelly?" Sam asked.

"Not today," Dean said, the smile sliding off his face. "Not sure how to take that. I don't know if she's biding her time for a dramatic entrance, or if we're chasing a dead end so she doesn't need to stop us, or -"

"I'm gonna be the hopeful one here and say that maybe she's not showing up at all. Ever again," Sam said. Dean glanced over at him with a cocked eyebrow. "I said I was being hopeful, not realistic," Sam said with a half-apologetic smile.

* O *

"So you found it," Kelly's voice chirped brightly into John's ear. He looked over to his left to see her standing beside him, her arms crossed behind her back as she looked down at the grave. John nodded in silence. "Good guess on Sam's part to look into this. That kid'll make a hell of a hunter someday. Not exactly his chosen career path, but he'll make it work." She fell silent for a moment. John sighed and waited for her to press on. "Sure you don't want my help?" she asked.

"There it is," John said. "The desperate plea bargaining. No. I don't want or need your help."

"Come on, John. Last chance," Kelly said.

"Yeah, it is." John looked over at her and was pleased to find that Kelly's usual smirk was nowhere to be seen.

"Look, I'm not bargaining anymore. I'm offering you a gift," she told him, walking around in a small loop so that she was facing directly in front of him.

"I'm gonna kill you and you're still in a sharing mood?" John asked. He was restless, not eager to play any more of Kelly's games. He was ready to dig up the bones, but he couldn't risk it in daylight and the sun wouldn't set for a few more hours.

Dean parked the car and filled a big duffel bag with supplies from the trunk, shovels, flashlights, salt, a couple of sawed-offs and extra shells. He zipped up the bag and slammed the trunk, walking towards the cemetery grounds with Sam by his side. "Do you think we'll manage it?" Sam asked as they began on their path through the field of graves.

"To kill her tonight?" Dean added. Sam nodded. "Don't know," Dean said with a shrug. "I mean, I hope so," he muttered. He cleared his throat and picked up his pace a little. Sam quickened his step to keep up. "I'm so sick of this bitch, it'd be about time."

They continued walking in the direction of the Donald Wright's grave, this time with Dean knowing exactly where it was. Within ten minutes the two brothers saw the distant figure of their father ahead. Another figure could be seen standing close to John.

"Is that -?" Sam began, squinting at the silhouettes.

"Come on," Dean said, breaking into a run. They wove around the tombstones, speeding towards their father and Kelly as quickly as they could. Dean unzipped the duffel bag and threw a shotgun to Sam before grabbing one for himself.

"Oh, look, the Hardy boys are here," Kelly said when Sam and Dean arrived, panting, on either side of their father, guns raised and aimed at her chest. She held her hands out and the guns ripped away from them and sped into the grasp of her outstretched arms. "Good to see you crazy kids." She smiled at each brother in turn before looking back at John. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with your boys so -" She dropped one of the guns and cocked the other, aiming at John and firing a shell full of rock salt into his chest. The force of it knocked John back, crashing him into a nearby gravestone with a sickening thud. Blood trickled down from his temple where his head had hit the stone.

"Dad!" Dean called, only managing to run a step towards his father before an invisible force blocked his way.

"Save it, Dean. He'll be fine, but he's out cold for now," Kelly said.

Dean spoke through his clenched jaw. "Okay, what'd you wanna talk about?" he asked, only half-resigned to the fact that she was calling the shots for the moment.

"You know, there's just so much that I wanna say. And not much time left to say it in so I guess I'm gonna have to prioritize here," Kelly said, more to herself than to either Dean or Sam.

The two brothers traded questioning looks. Sam spoke up. "Not much time? What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave a jerky little shake of her head. "We're nearing the end of the road for me. I mean, took long enough, but we're here now."

"And you're... what? Just ready to die?" Dean prodded, disbelief tinting his voice.

"Dean -" she gave an exasperated sigh, as though she were completely exhausted with having to explain the simplest of concepts to someone who just didn't understand. She clenched and unclenched her fists.

"I can assemble and control werewolf packs. I can flit between dimensions and watch the future unfurl before me. I could even rip your brain in two from inside your skull and watch it dribble out your ears but -"

Dean grimaced at the terrifying and disgusting image she had just put into his head. "Well, what's stopping you?" he asked once he had composed himself.

"Don't tempt me," she hissed, clearing her throat before picking up where Dean had interrupted her. "But... none of that matters."

"Well... what then?" he asked.

"Come on, Dean," she said as though it were painfully obvious. "Look at him." Kelly nodded towards Sam. Dean kept his eyes trained on her. "Look at Sam!" Kelly said more insistently. Dean looked over at his little brother.

"Ask me what matters. Ask me again. What do you think I'll say? What would you say?" Kelly said in a near-whisper. Dean turned back to her, watching as she held her arms out in front of her over the grave, hands shaking violently. The earth began to shift and churn, the grass ripping and a storm dirt flying up into the air. Sam and Dean stepped back. "Here!" she shouted, throwing the other gun aside. "Let's cut to the chase!" Her arms jerked up in frantic motions over and over, causing more and more dirt to fly up until the pine box below was uncovered.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

_-A/N: Let me know what you think. I'm trying to have this story finished once and for all by the end of summer but we'll see.  
~aep _


	117. Empty

**117. Empty**

The two Winchester brothers stood frozen, both thinking after all this time it couldn't be so easy. There was some trick, some sort of trap. Dean half-expected Kelly to throw the two of them into the hole she had just dug and bury them alive.

"Did you know that ghosts don't dream?" Kelly asked, taking advantage of their silence. "Always awake. Every time I try to close my eyes... there's nothing there. You know, at first it occurred to me, maybe even though Eric was gone, I could still see him in my dreams? Turned out that wasn't the case. Not tryin' to be overly sentimental here, but I know you could relate. I mean, wouldn't you want to see little Sammy if -?"

Dean cut her off. "Look, I'm sorry your life sucked, but for once... just shut the fuck up. Stop bitching and moaning. You had a crappy existence and then you inflicted that crap on other people and now you want me to listen to your sob story?" He didn't know if she had been stunned into silence or if she was actually taking anything he said in. It didn't really matter. An intense surge of satisfaction wove through him as he finally stood up to her. "And you know what else? Stop comparing Sam and me to you and your brother."

It looked like she wanted to speak up, but after months and months of being antagonized by her, Dean had had enough. "No!" he said, stopping her before she could say a word. "We're not like you."

Sam studied Kelly's face. She seemed entranced by Dean's words, her eyes focused on him like burning coals. Sam slowly knelt down to the bag that Dean had dropped earlier and silently rooted around inside it. His eyes darted between Dean and Kelly, but both of them were focused exclusively on each other, providing him with the perfect opportunity to go unnoticed.

"And all your little fucking prophecies don't mean a thing," Dean continued. "Just some lonely ghost bitch rambling to try to get a dig at us. You're like a bad fortune teller. Of course we're headed for pain. That's life. 'Specially a hunter's life. But that's not your problem, and it's definitely not for your entertainment."

With that, Dean jumped down into the hole, prying off the lid of the coffin that contained Kelly's father's body. He gagged at the sight and smell of the corpse. "Sam!" he coughed.

Sam rushed over to his brother and threw down the bottle of lighter fluid and a canister of salt that he'd procured from the duffel during Dean's rant. Dean caught them and spread them over Donald Wright's remains, making sure the body was thoroughly soaked and covered before scrambling to hoist himself out of the ground and coming to stand beside Sam. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and turned it around in his hand.

Kelly walked towards them, calm and measured steps until she was standing barely a foot from the two of them as they stood side by side at the edge of the grave.

"Well, looks like this is it, then, huh?" she asked.

"If it is, you don't get last words. You've said enough," Dean told her. She rolled her eyes, a hint of her old spark lighting her features as Dean flicked open the lighter. The numb mask that had seemed like a second skin cracked and she lunged. Instead of reaching to extinguish the lighter's little flame though, she grabbed Sam, cold shackles for hands that wrapped around his arms, just above his elbows, and shook him.

"Sam! Hang on!" Dean shouted as he cast the lighter into the pit, squinting for a second against the brilliantly bright flames that jumped high, licking the night air. He immediately turned to Sam to see Kelly's form suddenly ignite, burning even brighter than the fire he'd just turned away from.

The cold Sam had felt burrowing into his skin transformed to raging heat. Fire to his flesh as the corpse below was consumed by the flames and as Kelly burned right along with it. Sam's yells mingled with her shrieking but within seconds the flame had burnt itself out and she was gone. Sam collapsed to the ground as the corpse of Kelly's father continued to burn, sending a thick plume of black smoke up into the air.

Dean knelt down beside his baby brother, hands hovering over the burn marks Kelly had left on Sam's arms. "You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam bit down on his lip but nodded.

Dean planted a rough kiss on Sam's forehead. "Alright, grab our stuff. I'll get Dad," Dean ordered, helping Sam to his feet, but careful not to aggravate his burns. Sam retrieved the guns Kelly had taken from them and slipped them into the duffel. Dean stooped over his father, hoisting him up and flinging one of John's arms around his shoulder so he could carry him out of the graveyard. John groaned as he came to, legs wobbly but mostly able to support himself. He looked around to the column of black smoke rising out of the ground.

"It's done?" John asked. Sam and Dean nodded. The three of them made their way shakily back to the car.

"So, hospital or house?" Dean asked John when they had settled into the car. John pressed a hand, assessing the injury the salt round had inflicted before twisting around with a slight grimace to eye the burns on his youngest son's arms.

"I'm fine and you'll be okay," John told Sam before turning back to the front to address Dean. "No hospital." Dean nodded and started up the car.

* O *

"I liked this shirt," John muttered to himself from the seat he'd pulled up to the kitchen sink to clean his wounds. He cut the shirt off with a pair of scissors and inspected the damage underneath. The sweat and blood-soaked shirt made a thick slop sound as he let it fall to the ground.

Dean grabbed a roll of fresh gauze from the mess of a medical supply bag that was open on the kitchen table. "Dad, we're gonna use the upstairs bathroom to dress Sam's burns," he informed his father who grunted his acknowledgment.

"Take care of that and then pack up. We're gettin' out of this damn house, movin' on," John called after his sons as they headed upstairs.

"Yes, sir," Dean called down.

"She's really gone this time," Sam said hesitantly as he took a seat on the closed toilet lid. Dean stepped into the bathroom and shut the door before turning to look at him.

"Yeah. I think so," he said. "Yeah." He wanted to revel in his long-awaited victory but it felt hollow. She was gone. And there was no denying that that was a good thing. But now that it was over it didn't feel nearly as satisfying as it should have. There wasn't the dramatic flooding sense of relief that he had expected somewhere in the back of his mind. There hadn't even been the rush of adrenaline when he was at the height of a hunt. Maybe because Kelly had turned herself into something more than a hunt, a sort of presence in their lives. Dean certainly wasn't going to miss her but there was a need to adjust to the idea of being free of her, letting that sink in and be real.

He felt his little brother's eyes studying him. "Shouldn't we be celebrating or something?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged, letting out a stream of air and turning the sink faucet on its coldest setting. He tested the temperature with his fingers until it was icy cold then gestured for Sam to put his arm under.

"Gotta get you patched up first," Dean said. Sam hesitated for a minute before submerging one arm under the jet of cold water. He sucked in a quick breath at the sudden shock of it against this burnt skin. Dean eyed Sam's arm under the water: red, swollen, and blistered. "She had a good grip on you," he muttered.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Final attempt at payback, I guess. You took her brother from her so she was gonna try to take yours."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad she didn't."

"Me too." Sam switched over to cooling the burn on his other arm. "And now we're moving on again," he said. "I don't know, I hate this house but we were here long enough that it sorta felt like a... home-base or something."

"Yeah, kinda," Dean agreed half-heartedly. "You gonna miss that school?" he asked. Sam didn't answer. "And the people there? Like... what was that kid's name? Scott?" Dean prodded, trying to keep his voice level. He shook his head, telling himself not to be jealous of some stupid little high schooler that Sam had kissed ages ago.

"Not really," Sam finally said, a short answer indicating he didn't want to get into it. Sam knew he wouldn't miss Scott much, or mathletes, or the kids he sat with at lunch, or anything about that particular school beyond the stability of routine it had provided. He withdrew his arm from the stream of water, shutting the faucet off and holding his dripping arms out to Dean.

Dean unravelled the roll of gauze and began to carefully wrap it around Sam's left arm. Sam winced. "Too tight?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "It's okay," he muttered.

Dean finished that arm and moved on to the other. He looked over his work when he'd finished. "Alright, let's go pack," Dean said, turning to the door. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder before he could open it. Dean turned back around to face his little brother who wrapped him in a light hug. Dean returned the embrace, paying attention not to nudge the newly bandaged portions of Sam's arms.

"Kelly's finally dead. We're still alive," Sam muttered into Dean's neck.

"Yeah," Dean whispered, unable to say anything else. "I guess... I don't know. This one just doesn't feel like a win with everything we lost along the way," he murmured, his breath making Sam's hair sway slightly. Sam gave a little nod. They stood like that for a moment, connected by touch and a small, deflated feeling.

_-A/N: So... yeah. Not super happy with how Kelly's death turned out. I guess part of that's the fact that's she's been around so long now that anyway to kill her is gonna feel lame but still... Well, whatever. I'm thinking one chapter and the epilogue left before this story's finally over (well, this first draft of it anyway. One day I will revamp it and fix all the shit that bugged me the first time around, like this chapter for instance).  
~aep _


	118. Walking Out

**118. Walking Out**

Two and a half months had passed since Kelly's demise. A routine had been reimplemented: research, hunt, successful annihilation of the monster of the week, and repeat. The Winchesters had been glad to bid the Wright house adieu, but Sam felt himself missing the anchor of a set place to call home. As much as he had hated the rut they had been in there, he missed it more than he thought he would now that they were back to hopping from motel to motel, school district to school district. Still, the ache for home wasn't as overwhelming as it had been before. Now he had his brother to take refuge in.

John was hunting relentlessly, even more immersed in jobs than usual. He couldn't know for sure if he had missed an opportunity with Kelly and he never would. It made his skin crawl considering how close he had come to dealing with a monster like her. But what bothered him more was the slim chance that if he had, he would know where Mary's killer was now. Throwing himself into hunt after hunt felt as good a way as any to atone.

Sam slipped inside the nondescript motel room and looked around to see it was unoccupied. He flopped down on the sagging bed, lying there for a moment before sitting up and pulling out homework from his first day at a new school. He flipped through the history book the teacher had given him and began to pore over the material. Dean came in a little while later, sitting down in a raggedy armchair in the corner and watching his little brother with a tiny shake of his head. Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I don't know why you bother. We're gonna be somewhere else in a week or two. You don't really have to do the work. It's not like there are gonna be any real consequences if you don't," Dean said, shrugging.

"I just... I wanna apply myself," Sam muttered, slipping a piece of lined paper between the pages he had been reading and shutting the book.

Dean bit back a small laugh. "I know, I know. I'm just givin' you a hard time. Sorry," Dean said with a wave of his hand. "Truth be told, I kinda respect your work ethic, man. Me, I got my GED, so I'm done with school shit."

"Wait... you got it?" Sam asked, pushing his book aside and looking at his brother. He knew Dean had taken the test last month but since then, he hadn't heard anything about it.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, just got a call about them not knowing where to send the certificate. I passed. Ninety-eighth percentile, apparently."

"Dean, that's awesome!" Sam said, scrambling off the bed and grabbing Dean's arm to pull him up to standing. Dean only managed half of a nonchalant shrug before Sam wrapped him in a hug. He allowed himself a smile that faded as he heard the key clicking in the lock. The two of them sprang apart at the sound. The hug had been innocent enough, but both of their instincts made them err on the side of caution when it came to their father. And beyond arousing any suspicion, it was too uncomfortable to exhibit any intimacy, even the kind that would seem normal for other siblings.

John grunted as way of greeting before taking a seat at a rickety little table by the door and pulling a stack of files out of his bag. He began rifling through the pages, laying certain ones out in an array in front of him.

"D'you need any help, Dad?" Dean asked.

"I got it," John said with a dismissive half-wave.

"Then I think I'll go out for a walk, if that's alright, sir," Dean said.

"Fine," John said with a nod, not bothering to look up from his collage of information.

"I'll come with," Sam said. The brothers made their way out of the motel and onto a busy city sidewalk.

John's laser-focus on cases since Kelly's death had led him to be more cold and dismissive of his boys than usual, an impressive feat. Sam didn't mind. It bothered Dean, gnawed at him a little, but not enough to address the issue. Not that family talks were an effective way to solve problems for the Winchesters anyway. He tried to suppress that little piece of him that so desperately wanted his father's recognition and approval. Instead, Dean focused on the extra time John's neglect afforded him to be alone with Sam.

"You know, Tara dropped out and got her GED when she was a teen," Dean said as the two walked along together. It was the first time in months he had mentioned his friend's name.

"I didn't know that," Sam said, noticing a little quiver at the corner of Dean's mouth. He pulled his gaze away from Dean's face, so as not to make his older brother feel self-conscious.

"Yeah," Dean said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Sam chanced a glance back and saw the quiver give way to a little smile. He wanted to tell Dean how proud Tara would be of him, but he knew Dean didn't want to hear it. Too cheesy or too painful, or both. So they just walked along quietly as the sun sank below the earth. The light faded quickly, leaving them in semi-darkness. They took a turn down a less crowded street, welcoming the feeling of relative privacy they found there. Dean slipped one hand out of his pocket and found Sam's. Their fingers wove together and they continued to walk.

**~ EPILOGUE: 3 Years Later ~**

For years Sam told himself that Dean was enough, that he was all Sam really needed. But it didn't work like that. There were moments, brief shimmering moments when Sam was completed by his big brother. But the older he got, the shorter those moments lasted, and the more he found he needed something else, something more. He felt a twinge of guilt for this selfish need. Especially when years before, Sam had been the one who had pushed so desperately for Dean to let him in. Dean finally had, and for a while it was the best either of them had ever felt. But now Sam wanted out. Not from Dean, but from his entire life. Sam realized how much it would hurt his brother. Even with the soft spot Dean had for his baby brother, it had been so hard to open himself up for Sam. And now Sam was getting ready to leave. He could almost preemptively feel his brother's aching sense of betrayal. Dean didn't know Sam's plan yet, but he would soon enough and it was almost enough to make Sam crumple up Stanford's acceptance letter and throw it away. Almost.

But Sam needed a chance at some semblance of a normal life. A life without John breathing down his neck. A life where monsters didn't hide in every shadow. A life where he could grow up and get a job and a family. A life where he could begin to take those next steps - steps away from the freak-show of his old life and the normal life he could picture himself having. And that meant a life without an all-encompassing, unrelenting love for his big brother. Sam wasn't sure if he could ever have a life like that, but he knew that the only way to find out was to gain some distance from his family, to pursue something outside of what he had grown up with.

So as much as it pained him to do so, Sam was ready to leave. He was just a few steps away from the door, arm outstretched for the handle, when he heard it unlock from the other side. His father entered. John eyed the backpack slung over Sam's shoulder and the duffel bag in his hand. "Where do you think you're goin'?" John asked, his voice a growl and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Dean stepped in behind his father. Sam couldn't look at his big brother, couldn't meet his eye, though he could feel Dean trying to catch his. "College, sir," Sam said as firmly as he could while staring at the doorknob.

"What? And when exactly were you planning to fill me in on this?" John asked, taking a step towards Sam.

"I applied to a bunch of schools. I got into my first choice with a full ride," Sam said, not exactly answering his father's question. He hadn't planned to fill John in at all. His plan was to sneak out and not look back. He knew it was cowardly, knew it would hurt his family, but a confrontation had been exactly what he had wanted to avoid. He was determined to leave. His father's rage wouldn't change that. But seeing Dean crestfallen and shocked, just as he looked now, was enough to make Sam waver.

"What school is that, exactly?" John pressed.

"Stanford," Sam answered.

Before the fury set in, Sam could have sworn he saw pride flash in his father's eyes. But then the yelling began and he knew he must have imagined it.

John began to shout, but Dean didn't hear what he was saying. His mind had been plunged into a sudden fog by the shock of Sam's news. He thought they shared everything together: love, blood, laughter, pain, anger, a bed when John was away... And yes, Sam may have idly mentioned how he'd like to go to college, but he never once told Dean that he was actually planning on it. Dean knew the application process was infuriatingly difficult. He realized that Sam had navigated it on his own, with what must have been a frayed patchwork quilt of a transcript and no steady home address. Sam had managed all that in secret. If Dean wasn't so hurt, he'd be impressed, proud of his little brother's drive. But all he felt now was the panicked rush of blood pounding in his ears and the painful constriction of his throat.

Words from years ago suddenly came to the surface of Dean's mind. Kelly's voice was as pure and clear as if she were speaking in his ear, whispering her cruel little prophecy to him all over again. _"He's already smarter than you. Can you imagine what he'll think of you in a couple of years when he realizes that he let his emotions cloud his common sense?"_

John's voice erupted through Dean's thoughts, having reached a new level in volume and rage. "You were just planning to walk out that door, leave me and your brother here without a clue as to what happened to you?!" John shouted. Sam's jaw was set as he looked his father squarely in the face, allowing the onslaught of words to wash over him, reverberating around the room and through the three of them standing there.

Dean's mind was drawn back to Kelly's words. _"- Will he still love you? Or will he have realized what a colossal waste of time he spent on you? Do you think he'll really stick around?_

Sam cut into John's tirade. "Look, I'm doing well for myself. I got a full scholarship to a great school! You'd think a halfway decent father could be proud of that. Fine. You're not that kind of dad. I know that. But you have to get that I don't wanna be on the road forever. I don't wanna hunt monsters forever. I don't wanna be dragged along with _you_and your goddamn crusade for the rest of my fucking life! I deserve a chance at something better. That's Stanford. That's not crappy motel rooms and booze and broken bones."

Dean's memory of Kelly whispered to him as Sam continued ranting. _"You think he won't realize his potential and how it goes far beyond what you could even dream about?"_Dean shook his head, stepping in between his father and brother, pressing one hand to each of their chests to keep them from coming to blows.

"If you walk out that door, don't you _ever_come back!" John yelled across Dean to Sam.

Sam bit down on his lip to hold back a grimace and shook his head. He clutched Dean's hand on his chest for a second before pushing him away. "Fine with me," he said softly, turning on his heel and walking from the room. Dean stared after his brother, frozen in place.

_"One of these days he'll be walking out the door."_

Dean's mouth went dry. He turned to his father. "You're letting him go?" The question was as much to himself as it was to John.

"He made his choice. He chose himself over his family," John muttered through a clenched jaw as he reached out and slammed the door shut. He clicked the lock in place, the sound of it as final as a gunshot, separating the brothers.

Sam walked in the direction of the bus station, not looking back until the motel was the size of a monopoly playing piece. He was torn between being thankful that Dean hadn't made his decision to leave harder by chasing after him, and a little heartbroken that Dean hadn't fought him on this. But it was better this way. It had to be.

His own footsteps on pavement accompanied him to the bus stop. The bus arrived not long after. He faltered, one foot on the ground, the other on the bus. He took a deep breath and stepped up, the doors creakily sliding shut behind him. He wondered if Dean had found the note he had left by now.

Dean sank down onto the bed, bracing his weight with his arm beside him. He felt a piece of paper poke at his finger from under the pillow. He pulled it out and unfolded it, quickly scanning the note.

_Dean -  
__I know it seems like I'm running away again. And I guess I am. But I'm not running from you. I got into Stanford. Please, don't follow me. I just want to know if I can have a normal life. Mom would've wanted that for us, don't you think? I'm sorry I'm leaving this way. Know that I love you. More than anything. I just need to do this for myself. I'm sorry.  
- Sam_

Dean crumpled the note in his fist. He wanted to tear it up, to run after Sam and tell him that sorry wasn't good enough. He wanted to slug him in the jaw or maybe just hug him tightly. But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he remained seated on that creaky old bed and jammed the note in his pocket. He cradled his head in his hands. _Goodbye, Sammy,_he thought to himself.

Sam leaned his head against the grimy bus window, watching the dotted yellow lines in the center of the street rush by. For once, he and Dean weren't on the road together. Their paths had diverged and Sam was on this journey alone.

Distance swallowed them up until they were just separate points on a weathered map.

_The End._

* * *

_A/N: Eurgh. How do... end? Well, don't despair. We all know they'll be reunited in a few years' time.  
I know I said there'd be one more chapter and then the epilogue, but I didn't feel like there was enough material for another chapter so this is it. The end. Years later. Thanks for sticking around. I'm sorry it took so long to get this last chapter out. I think I was so afraid of having an imperfect ending that I held off. Chuck was right when he said endings are hard. Ugh.  
Anyway, it's been great. Thanks for being a part of this story.  
~aep_

P.S.  
I've been asked a number of times over the years if there would be a sequel. As of right now, there are no solid plans for one.  
I've loved writing this story but I need to take a break now that it's done to pursue some other works that have been put on the back burner for a very long time.  
Please keep your eye out for me because this ain't the last you'll be seeing of my writing for the SPN fandom. Thanks again. Happy holidays!


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